


the falling kind (an atlas to follow)

by end_thistragedy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fate, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, all good things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Niall were to be honest, he kind of wishes there was a chase. The kind created by an impressionable meeting and a loss of words. One that thrived on covert glances and artfully written text messages. But with Zayn, there never really was. It was simple.</p><p>They met and—</p><p>And Niall doesn't know how else to describe it: the kinetic and magnetic click, the instantaneous veneration, the overwhelming enthrallment.</p><p>Zayn is sun kissed skin and beautiful, inked collarbones and smooth, bony hips, dark colored beanie hanging from his pocket and loose jumpers, pen stained fingertips and paint streaked arms—and, well. Niall is enraptured immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited about this because I found it sitting in my Google Drive and it was finished and I had forgotten about it and then I reread it and added and fixed things and now I'm here and it's [insert word amount here IDK i'll forget to edit this but it was at 20,000 last time i checked]. I'm pretty sure I started it in early 2013. I can't believe this. It's my baby. Enjoy!
> 
> AND here's a soundtrack: [on 8tracks](https://8tracks.com/nahdeer/the-falling-kind-an-atlas-to-follow)

_"Then he met Herakles and the kingdoms of his life all shifted down a few notches._  
_They were two superior eels_  
_at the bottom of the tank and they recognized each other like italics."_  
―Anne Carson

If Niall were to be honest, he kind of wishes there was a chase. The kind created by an impressionable meeting and a loss of words. One that thrived on covert glances and artfully written text messages. But with Zayn, there never really was. It was simple.

They met and—

And Niall doesn't know how else to describe it: the kinetic and magnetic _click_ , the instantaneous _veneration_ , the overwhelming _enthrallment_.

Zayn is sun kissed skin and beautiful, inked collarbones and smooth, bony hips, dark colored beanie hanging from his pocket and loose jumpers, pen stained fingertips and paint streaked arms—and, well. Niall is enraptured immediately.

They meet at Harry's apartment warming at the tail end of May—on the balcony, surrounded by the eerie silence of the late night.

Niall steps outside to level himself, pull his mind back down to earth, the overwhelming crowd of inspired twenty-somethings whose names Niall cannot imagine Harry can possibly remember, are suddenly too much, too loud, happening all at once.

He doesn’t usually get claustrophobic at parties, his anxiety only spiking in small, condensed spaces, but it was something about that apartment: the amount of people, with their strange mix of smells that range from the predictable scent of weed to the depressing scent of Axe body spray that Niall would bet his entire life savings on the potentiality of it emanating purely from Louis, and the combined volume of all of their collective voices, mixed with the singer-songwriter playlist that Niall thinks is a perfect encapsulation of Harry Styles.

Zayn is already there, entire body illuminated by the balcony lights as he rests his elbows on the railing, wrapping his lips around a newly lit cigarette. He startles at the sound of the door sliding shut, as if the sounds of the party pouring out hadn’t sparked his attention, making a small surprised sound that Niall barely hears over the volume of Hozier’s “From Eden,” still loud and clear from the apartment, and moves to put out his cigarette.

But Niall, taken by something he can’t exactly explain, says, "Wait," and carefully logs the fact that Zayn doesn't even flinch when he moves closer to the rather unfairly pretty boy with the long hair and grabs his wrist in a loose, friendly grip just before he can toss the cigarette over the railing. "I don't mind," Niall tells him, his words firm and reassuring.

As the music bridges the silence that arises between them, the _Babe, there's something lonesome about you, something so wholesome about you, get closer to me_ , Niall’s trapped in his mind, in the midst of realizing his irrationality was the consequence of liking the way Zayn looked while he was smoking, unable to stop himself from thinking cheesily that the practice was meant just for him—his mouth, his jaw, his unbelievable cheekbones. It was the way he tilted his head back, exposing the expanse of his neck, and slowly closed his eyes as he held the cigarette loosely between his slender fingers.

Niall is taken by an embarrassing bodily chill, having no choice but to find something sturdy to catch himself, exhaling a gentle, whispered, "Shit,” and steadying himself against the cold rail, praying his stumble wasn’t too obvious.

Zayn doesn’t seem to notice as he nods his head, pushing his hair out of his face, only for it to fall right back to the same place as before, and says, "I'm Zayn,” but there’s a slight glint in his eye as the cigarette finds its rightful place between his lips, so Niall isn’t entirely sure he hadn't noticed.

He feels himself sway on his feet, a bit weak in the knees, and he grips the railing tighter, his knuckles turning contrastingly pale against the black, and says, clearing his throat, "Niall. I’m Niall."

And if he weren't already holding onto something, Zayn's smirking, "I know," probably would've knocked him off of his feet, sending him flying over the railing.

As he and Zayn pretend they’re not shooting each other smiles and glances out of the corner of their eyes, Niall thinks the crash into the cemented ground below would probably feel a lot less devastating than this.

\---

Niall doesn't know exactly how long they spent talking out on the balcony, but it’s long enough for Zayn to have finished a second cigarette, Niall raising an amused eyebrow—

_"I'm trying to quit. It's not really working, but I'm down to four a day."_

_"Four packs?" Niall is appalled at the mere thought, but it’s the very first time that he hears Zayn’s laugh._

_"No. Four cigarettes, you numpty. You're a smart one aren't you?"_

—and tell him that he's going into his fourth year as an architectural studies major with a minor in graphic design, which explains why Niall has never seen him before. From what Niall has heard of most art students, he probably lives in the studio. He's considering applying to grad school next fall if he manages to even get that far, a worry that Niall immediately rejects with a firm, "Of course you will. Don't be ridiculous," that has Zayn smiling in this obnoxiously gentle way that makes Niall look out at the view to hide the blush that he knows colors his whole face.

Their conversation naturally veers toward Harry.

Zayn first met him at a party in Greek Town and ended up giving him a ride home because he was drunk and pretty and Zayn’s protective instincts had kicked in at the realization that college boys were all mostly idiots and Harry was simply just too nice and too trusting to be left alone.

"I just kept thinking, like. I couldn't live with myself if something had happened to him," Zayn admits, a fondness in words that Niall can see in his eyes. “Lost my mind, if I’m honest.”

Harry had spent all night at Zayn's side, at one point talking lazily about his fleeting intentions of writing a novel and at another, begging Zayn with that awful pout of his to draw him on the back of an empty pizza box after finding out Zayn was in art.

Zayn tells him he eventually did draw him on the back of the box, but it was after Harry fell asleep on his lap. He says it like he’d been guilt tripped into doing it, but Niall can see the near delight in his eyes as Zayn explains that the sketch made Harry tear up and he has doubts about Zayn’s purported immunity to Harry Styles’ charms. He even looks enamored when Niall remembers seeing the piece and tells Zayn it was the first thing Harry had hung up on his wall when he moved into the new apartment.

Unfortunately, Zayn was never able to get rid of Harry after that, but he doesn't sound too put off about it and Niall doubts are reinforced. Zayn was apparently the only one who would sit through silent films with him because even Liam wouldn’t do that, or be his plus one to strange underground art exhibits that he'd been invited to by strangers he met standing in line at the grocery store that he knew Louis would cry laughing at him if he asked or go to a book signing of some poet who writes without vowels about their many illustrious hookups that Niall wouldn’t take as seriously.

Zayn recognized Niall's name and face because Harry talks about Niall only slightly less than he talks about Liam, and constantly shows pictures of the two of them on his phone like they're his children.

He snorts and says, "I think he _really_ wants a baby."

And throughout it all, Niall listens to him, cataloging every inch of his voice and wondering how he's making a simple get to know you conversation sound like he's reciting a poem. Niall doesn't know much about poems, no matter how many poets Harry recommend to him, but he thinks Zayn might just be the perfect embodiment of one.

When Zayn's voice trails off with an expectant glance in Niall's direction, a clear, _what’s your deal?,_ Niall finds himself regrettably flushing underneath the attention and laughing nervously like he always does when he feels awkward. Zayn is quite distracting.

He clears his throat and reluctantly explains every minute detail about being in the Sociology program at the university, but it's all just intro courses and not nearly close to the good stuff and then he sheepishly talks about his spontaneous minor in music. He scratches the hair at the base of his head. It's curling. "I don't really know what I'm doing?"

And Zayn laughs, this calm, endearing chuckle that lights up his entire face, _oh God_ , and says, "Me neither. _Fucking hell_ ,” he shakes his head, like he’s relieved that someone else is in the same boat as him, “Maybe we could figure it out together?"

And really: the slight tug in Niall's chest should've been the first clue that he was going to fall in love with Zayn Malik and there was nothing he could do about it.

\--

He loses Zayn after they leave the balcony, Zayn being pulled one way into a group of obvious art students and Niall being called the other way by Liam who is just drunk enough to think dancing to slow indie music is a good idea. Niall does think it’s fucking hilarious, but not when it costs him the opportunity to chat up a cute boy. Possibly in a dark, secluded corner.

By the time Niall sees Zayn again, he's two drinks in and sporting a nice and subtle buzz so, really, there’s no harm done. Zayn is nursing a beer, sitting on top of the counter in the kitchen talking to Harry when Niall enters and Harry crows, “There you are!” and wraps Niall up in one of his all-encompassing hugs that make Niall want to dissolve into his arms. “Haven’t seen you for hours!”

“Hey. You okay?” Niall asks before pulling away, his hand flat on Harry’s back, the hand holding Harry’s beer resting lightly on Niall's shoulder.

Harry nods, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Niall chuckles and moves his hand to Harry’s cheek. He’s a combination of warm and cold, “You’re drunk?”

“I’ve had a couple.” Harry brings his other hand up to rest on top of Niall’s and smiles as Niall drags the pad of his thumb over his cheek, leaning into the touch. “Oh!” He says, and takes a hold of Niall’s hand to guide it to the thigh of the unforgettable boy sitting on the counter. “Zayn! This is Zayn. Niall, meet Zayn. He’s very pretty.”

Zayn is smiling lazily, clearly as out of it as Harry is and Niall wonders for a moment what else they’ve gotten into. Zayn hums, eyeing Niall in a way that has Niall instinctively leaning into his space, almost gravitating towards him. “We've met, actually. Hey. Was looking for you. Harry won't stop talking about you.”

Niall's eyebrows raise, shooting Harry a weary glance, “All good things, I hope?”

“The greatest things.” Harry assures him, attempting to wink, but closing both of his eyes and blinking, and then before Niall can tease him for it, Harry shoves him unnecessarily hard between Zayn's spread thighs, and Niall has to reach out to steel himself on Zayn’s knee. “Talk! Please! I’m gonna get more drinks!”

“I think you’ve had enough?” Niall says, because he knows Harry almost if not as much as he knows Liam and he can tell when Harry's too far gone. At the sound of beer sloshing behind his ear, he adds, “I think you’ve both had enough.”

“No way,” Zayn slides his arm over Niall’s shoulder and presses his face against his neck, and this is it—this is how Niall will lose his life, “I’m just getting started.”

Harry throws his arms up and whoops, pleased that someone is on his side. “Don’t disappear. I’ll be back. I promise.”

When he leaves the kitchen, high fiving a party goer on the way out, Niall laughs and says, “If he finds Liam, he’s not coming back,” turning around and realizing his position and how close he is.

When he tries to step back, though, Zayn closes his legs around him. “Whoa, hey. Where you going?”

“Just trying to give you space.”

“I didn’t ask for it?” Zayn smiles at him. “I’m feeling a bit reckless so I need you to keep an eye on me before I do something stupid.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Keep me busy, yeah? Stay close. Tell me a story.”

“I don’t know any stories.”

“Hmm,” Zayn muses, “Sing me a song, then, Blondie.”

“I’m not—”

“Hey, hey!” Zayn leans around Niall and snatches a bottle of clear liquid out of a passing party goer’s hands, “Sorry, man. Saving this one for the man of the hour.”

The guy just nods and says, “Oh right, sorry!” and continues on his way out of the kitchen.

Zayn raises the bottle in a saluting gesture before nudging the bottom of it into Niall’s side, “Fetch us some glasses?”

“Sure,” Niall says, and Zayn releases him from his leg barricade and folds his knee up on top of the counter, setting the bottle of liquor on top of the open surface in front of him.

Harry had a drink station on the island in the center of the kitchen so it’s easy for Niall to locate the bag of plastic shot cups and return to where Zayn is opening the bottle.

“Sit with me,” he says, “Here—” and hands Niall the bottle in exchange for the bag of cups.

Niall obliges and climbs on top of the counter opposite of Zayn, crossing his legs so he can actually turn to mimic Zayn’s position.

“So—you never told me how you met Harry?” Zayn asks.

“I met ‘em through Liam,” Niall says, and tries not to look too put off when Zayn sets them both up with four cups.

He hadn’t really planned on getting pissed tonight. He and Harry had made plans the next day – him agreeing to try Soul Cycle with him – and he didn't like the idea of having to struggle with coaxing himself out of bed even more so than usual.

“Knew that. Don’t know why I asked.”

"Why haven’t we met yet?” Niall questions, straightforward, because it's been bothering him all night. Or, rather, in the last two hours since they met.

Zayn gestures for him to fill the glasses, shrugging and Niall does, slowly, as not to spill on top of Harry’s countertop. “I mean—I keep to myself most of the time, like.” he says, “But it's mostly the fact that being around Harry and Liam makes me sick to my stomach.” Niall laughs softly, agreeing and spilling onto the counter anyway.

“We’re here now, though,” Zayn tells him, lifting up one of the cups and offering it Niall who takes it with a smile, “We can make the most of it.”

\--

They spend the rest of the night glued to each other. Niall doesn't know if Zayn is aware of their sudden codependency, but he seems content enough not to wander off to find someone else to talk to. It's nice. It’s _really nice_. And Niall knows he's not one of those boring sacks, but the validation coming from Zayn feels good.

Sometime after they've both gone through a few more drinks, Niall gets thrown into the sloppiest game of beer pong he’s ever laid eyes on. It’s been set up on Harry's coffee table where players are forced to sit on their knees in order to play.

Zayn is sitting off to the side and he watches as Niall effortlessly manages to get an already giggly and finger pointing Louis even more giggly and finger pointy. He has an overly charmed look on his face that has Niall blushing for the umpteenth time that night, even harder every time they lock eyes. It becomes so frequent that Niall's skin ignites and he has to take off his jacket to lower his body temperature and prevent himself from passing out.

It doesn't actually help when Zayn takes it and puts it on instead like its second nature for him.

"Why're you wearing that jacket in the summer anyway?" Louis teases, loudly, but Niall doesn't actually hear him or care at all because Zayn looks _really_ good in black.

Harry finds them a while later still together, but Niall won't waste time over-analyzing. They’re sat cross legged against the wall in the hallway beside Harry’s bedroom. He's pink cheeked and glossy eyed like he always is when he's drunk, or hot, or talking to someone he really likes, or recently laid, so, Niall thinks, _always_. He makes a pitiful noise and drapes himself over their laps, interrupting their discussion of Will Ferrell movies, accompanied with drunken impersonations on Niall's part, which only resulted in Zayn giggling lazily into Niall's shoulder and Niall digging for more references in order to keep that happening. 

Zayn runs his fingers through Harry's hair and indulges his drunk diatribe about Liam's boss not giving him the night off because of a personal vendetta against Harry for undisclosed reasons, until he falls asleep. One regrettable glance at Zayn's doting gaze as Harry drools into his jeans and Niall thinks he definitely may be well and truly fucked.

\---

It’s much later, possibly the next morning or afternoon, when Niall wakes up upside down on Harry's couch feeling disoriented. There's a sticky note with Zayn's number and at least three smiley faces scribbled on it, safety pinned to his shirt.

Niall frowns down at it and wonders what decade Zayn thinks they're in and finds himself totally endeared.

"You dropped your phone in the toilet and laughed as you tried to flush it." Harry tells him when he’s up and pain meds are working to ease his head and he’s eager to save the number before he loses the note.

That explains why Zayn had to resort to pen and paper, but Niall pretends he doesn't hear.

When they're in the kitchen, and Niall’s sure it’s half past two in the afternoon, Harry's sat at the counter with shades on and hair pulled into a bun, nursing a cup of coffee. Niall is barefoot and shirtless, frying bacon on the stove, as Harry groggily declares that they obviously have to lock Zayn down immediately, especially if he's starting to actually show up to things Harry invites him to, instead of making excuses or flat out saying he doesn’t want to come.

"He's _really_ cool, isn't he?” Harry gushes, regardless, “I can't believe you hadn't met him. I feel cruel for denying you the pleasure of his company for so long. I'll have to fix this."

They've got two months left before they're due back in classes and Harry explains that he'll be damned if he doesn't force or gently nudge them into taking advantage of it.

Usually a bit averse to Harry’s methods of making friends, Niall spends half a second thinking about Zayn and finds that this time he doesn’t actually mind.

“I mean,” he says, to a hopeful looking Harry, “It is important to make new friends, right?”

Harry beams.

\---

It starts with Harry planning a weekend camping trip sometime at the beginning of June when all of their schedules are cleared and line up perfectly and no one can make any excuses—except for the disputable grumbled argument from a half asleep Zayn leaning against Niall’s shoulder in the backseat of Liam’s car that _no one goes fucking camping anymore_.

Harry makes the mistake of baking cupcakes with Louis, and everyone but Harry knows there’s a 99 percent chance they’re laced with weed.

No one tells him, allowing Louis to believe they’re convinced by his childish throat-slitting gesture and Harry doesn’t realize until after they arrive at the campsite, he’s four cupcakes in, and he’s hugging Zayn for an entire minute, saying, “I’m so happy you came. You smell so good, I love you,” and Liam has to pull him back by his hip, peeling him off while Niall confiscates the container.

After a few awkward fumbles with figuring out whose bags are whose, which tents everyone is sleeping in: who’s sharing and who’s on their own, and a delighted Harry excited that he’s _high_ , _like really high_ , and it’s not even fucking up his asthma—it's just the five of them struggling to put up tents and arguing over who was the last person to have Liam's keys, and spending the hour before the daylight is gone retracing their steps until Louis sees something shiny in their shoddily put together fire pit just before Niall goes to light it.

It’s probably a predictable bonding experience for the five of them.

Once everything is settled with a collective relieved sigh, they fall back into chairs and on blankets on the ground and Louis says, looking up at the sky, lying on his back with his hands folded on his stomach, “Could get used to this, boys,” and Niall finds himself agreeing, sunk down in his chair and watching Zayn from across the fire.

Liam and Harry aren't allowed to be a couple, as per democratic ruling, they're not even allowed to sleep in the same tent or sit next to each other because for one, Harry gets handsy when he's high and two, everyone knows that Liam is just really, really cuddly.

But the three of them have to sit through the pair making pouty faces at each other until eventually Zayn’s the one who gives in with an aggrieved, “Oh for fucks sake,” and switches spots with Harry to let them cuddle under a blanket, just as Louis warns, “As long as there’s no funny business.”

Harry concedes by not very subtly taking his hands out of Liam's pants.

It's nice.

Zayn smiles a lot and laughs at all the right moments, and teams up with Louis to make Harry and Liam's life miserable, so they all, of course, end up falling halfway in love and Niall could not imagine it going any other way.

\---

In July, Liam and Harry spend a weekend away at Harry's uncle's beach house and the thought is too lovey dovey for Niall to bare, but Harry insists the rest of them meet up while he’s not there to force them all together every once in a while. He doesn’t care how busy they are and he even threatens to Skype them on Friday evening if he doesn't get visual proof that the three of them are together.

It's predictably Zayn who suggests a movie night (the least effort, the better), but it’s Louis who offers up his and El's apartment.

The dynamic is weird without Harry there to fill the silence with boring stories and piece them all together or Liam to accidentally break things or ask basic geographical questions and charmingly make a mess of things.

It's even worse when Niall finds himself being the third wheel as Zayn and Louis chat about superheroes and comics that Niall has absolutely no knowledge of or, if he's honest, absolutely no interest in. Not unless they're talking about superhero movies, which they are almost deliberately not. He excuses himself at least three times to grab another beer, heat up his food, or go to the bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror and convince himself he’s enjoying this, and every time he comes back, they're on to another thing and he feels even more isolated.

He thumbs through his phone a little bitterly and pretends he's got loads of other people to talk to and, okay, he does, it's just he's really only interested in the company present but they're not giving him the attention he thinks he deserves.

It’s like. He’s not boring, is he? No. He's interesting and has interesting hobbies and interesting thoughts about social issues and can tell you who sings almost any song and recognize a one hit wonder from the 80's _second_ single and chat about movies and TV shows and give you the lowdown on practically any sport except hockey, which is bizarrely more up Harry’s alley. Niall will talk about literally anything, he's just not so big on comics.

Louis absolutely knows this.

One weekend when Niall was probably at his most vulnerable, the three of them—Niall, Liam, and Louis—piled in Louis’ car to roadtrip to tour a Marvel museum that Liam had found out about on Twitter. Harry had opted out of the trip on account of it being "too nerdy and not nerdy enough," but Niall went along because it was either stay at home and finish his research paper that was due that Wednesday, marathon Law & Order: SVU with Harry who had become addicted after starting it from the very beginning, or take procrastination to a new level by going to see a bunch of useless figures and toys at a museum four hours away. It was a simple decision. Louis and Liam squealed and shouted in excited voices the entire time while Niall was only mildly impressed. But at least he wasn't stuck in his room writing a paper on French history while Harry gasped from the living room sat in Liam’s favorite chair, dressed in Liam’s hoodie and eating Liam’s food to ease his separation anxiety.

So Niall's like 98% sure Louis is behaving like this on purpose.

He sends him a text that says, _youre a dick !_ and watches Louis read the screen as Zayn is flipping through the pictures of their roadtrip that's been placed into an actual scrapbook. He's not surprised. Niall wouldn't doubt Louis and Liam spent an entire week working on it together. Hell, Harry probably helped because he would literally do anything if Liam blinked at him or bribed him with sex or a banana. Or, in one case, both, but Niall is still afraid to ask about it.

_you sound jealous :)_

Niall grunts and wonders if Louis has ever been punched in the face.

He thinks maybe it's all worth it, the feeling of isolation from their shared laughter, their rapidly budding friendship, when he announces he's calling it a night and immediately Zayn breaks free of his Louis trance to offer him a ride home, one that Niall accepts so embarrassingly quick that Louis' biting his lip to keep from laughing behind Zayn's back.

Zayn can’t stop talking about how funny Louis is and Niall can't stop thinking how much of a dick Louis is as they make their way to the car.

The drive itself is so silent that Niall suspects Zayn's offer had an ulterior motive behind it. Especially when they get stuck at a red light and Zayn taps nervously on the steering wheel and says, "Did I, like, do something wrong?"

Niall inwardly groans and feels like the biggest idiot alive. He doesn't know what he expected, but this was not it. " _No_. Why d'you think that?" Which, considering the mound of evidence he’d presented tonight, probably isn't the best question to ask.

"I don't know. You were quiet all night. Just. Didn’t seem like you were enjoying yourself."

Niall swallows and looks out the window, very much avoiding Zayn's gaze. "You did absolutely nothing wrong, Zayn. Not feeling well is all _." Also I'm a fucking idiot_ , he thinks.

"Okay." Zayn doesn't sound reassured but the light turns green and Niall turns on the radio, the sound of a DJ's voice filling the resulting silence. It's a welcome distraction.

When Zayn pulls up to his and Liam's building, Niall says, "Thanks," and leans across the seat to kiss Zayn's cheek in a spontaneous attempt to ease the budding tension between them.

It's probably the creepiest move, but when he pulls back Zayn is smiling at him and Niall has to make a hasty escape before he does something irrational like actually kiss him.

He's glad for the apartment's emptiness when he falls face first into the couch and buries his face into the cushions and groans, "What the _fuck_."

\---

Liam and Harry come back engaged.

Niall unfortunately finds out first. It's the Monday morning of their return (they'd come in sometime after midnight and Niall'd been passed out in his bed, snoring so peacefully that they hadn't wanted to disturb him) and Niall snorts awake to someone poking his cheek.

He opens his eyes to find Liam and Harry knelt on either side of his bed and suppresses a whine. "Jesus Christ."

"Good morning!" Harry is actually glowing and he assumes it’s just way too fucking early for this.

It's definitely Liam who pokes his cheek this time, "Are you awake, Nialler?"

"No. What d'you want?"

"Haz and I, we--"

"Wait!" Harry shakes Niall's whole bed when he moves and Niall puts a pillow over his own face. Maybe if he focuses really hard he can make them disappear. "Can I tell him?"

Liam sighs, but it's the one that's only reserved for Harry. That one that means he's a bit annoyed but, like _fondly_ , as Harry once explained. "Go on, then."

There's a pause where Niall is sure that if he weren't trying to suffocate himself with his pillow, he'd see them grinning at each other with literal hearts coming out of their eyes. Gross.

"Okay, uhm, so we went to my uncle's beach house. You know. And we went out on his boat because he never uses it and I felt bad for it because it just sits there every day and like. We were going to do some fishing, but Liam’s an awful planner. It’s honestly terrible. But I don’t have to tell you. Was it you, Liam, who told me about Niall’s sixteenth birthday, or was it Niall’s dad? I’ve forgotten now. Anyway! Liam left the bait back at the house. It's never any good without bait though, so we decided we'd just like chill instead and it didn’t matter anyway because we only had a little while until the sun went down. We hadn’t looked at a clock for hours—"

Liam sounds way too happy and endeared when he clears his throat and says, "All right. Get to the point, babe."

"Right! Well--I guess. Hmm. That’s when Liam went for a swim instead, but when he came back I tried to give him the ladder but he ended up like falling backwards—"

" _Haz_.” Liam is nearly giggling, “You're so awful at this."

"Well don't judge me, Liam, I’m trying my best. I want to tell a proper story. Every engagement has a cute story, don’t they?"

Niall's stomach bottoms out just as his self-suffocation ceases and he drags the pillow off of his face to stare at them.

It takes Harry a moment to realize what he's done, looking from Niall to Liam, then down at his hands with a dejected, "Oh no."

"Surprise?" Liam offers unhelpfully, and Niall blinks.

"Have we broken him?"

"He'll get there,” Liam says, giving Niall a shake, “Give him a minute."

Niall opens his mouth but he doesn't think there's a word on earth that could convey what he's feeling, but, "Okay," seems to cover it.

"Okay?" Liam asks, and his eyebrow is doing that thing where he's amused but still a little concerned. "You hear that, Haz. He says 'Okay.'"

"Okay." Harry repeats, smiling closed lipped with those terrible dimples showing, "Okay, we're in love. Okay, we're engaged. Okay, we're getting married."

Niall nods his head, a bit speechless. "Okay," he repeats, because really what else can he say after he's just been ambushed like this.

Liam and Harry look at each other and tilt their heads and Niall thinks it's a bit sickening when they share a smile and say, "Okay," at the same time, like the dumb word means something more.

\---

They tell Louis and Zayn that Friday.

The bar they're at is called Charlie's and it's loud and only plays a selection of alternative music from the 90's and has been serving Niall and Liam affordable alcohol and wings since they were flighty freshman.

Niall has a soft spot for it. It's where he and Liam met Louis who'd tagged along with Harry that second year, celebrating Niall's birthday on students' budgets and where Liam and Harry first kissed in the toilets with The Stone Roses playing overhead, a story Harry delights in telling to anyone who will listen, and where they first broke up for a total of twenty, irritating minutes of pouting because they had both mistaken love for tension which ended up with them in the toilets again.

Niall thinks it's kind of fitting that Liam and Harry share their news in a place that's been so prominent in their relationship.

The story is a lot quicker this time, though, due to the fact that Liam tells it, albeit with the same sickening, loved up lilt to his voice as Harry had.

Louis calls dibs on Harry's best man because he's known him longer and therefore has superiority. Zayn just looks genuinely happy when he hugs Liam and says, "That's so sick."

Niall buys them all another round and toasts, "To the future newlyweds!" and, because, in college towns, slightly tipsy people are too friendly and happy, the toast attracts other patrons and Liam and Harry become the center of the bar's attention, and the rounds keep coming.

They both glow in the spotlight and the story of their engagement is told at least four more times, but with the help of a stream of hard liquor (Liam) and sweet and colorful drinks (Harry) that make Liam's eyes shine and Harry's cheeks pink.

Zayn and Louis get bored and eventually fall into their corner and play a game that has them alternating saying words until they've made a story, and eventually the five of them get into a competition where they put lemons in their mouths and time each other and Niall comes out victorious and they whoop and tackle him and Harry dumps a bowl of chips over his head.

Niall totals up three more beers and two, maybe three, or it could have been four shots, before he calls it quits. He's not sure how he ends up alone with Zayn at a booth they definitely didn't start the night in, but he's awfully aware of it when Zayn's hand lands on his thigh, squeezing.

"You should maybe switch to water, yeah?"

Niall must have been singing to himself because the noise he thought was coming from the bar stops. His mouth still tastes like lemon, and the salt he’d been fed by Louis earlier. "Yeah. Thinkin' maybe I should."

Zayn takes his hand away to pour water into a glass from the pitcher a waitress had left on their table awhile back--probably long before Liam and Harry ended up dancing by the pool table where Louis was trying to swindle unsuspecting people out of their money. They had their foreheads pressed together and their eyes closed and they were so close Niall actually couldn't bear to look anymore, feeling awfully like an intruder.

He feels a bit funny at the thought that they've just added another memory to this place. The biggest of all, to the point where it gets him thinking maybe he should start making his own memories. But he's never really cared for that sort of thing, he’s always thought. He's blamed it on being too lazy, too busy, but resentment for himself starts to build heavily in his chest.

He doesn't have time to dwell in it as Zayn cuts into his mind again. "Drink all of it." He demands when he sets the glass in front of him.

Niall says, "Thanks," and does as he's told.

The bar is a lot quieter now, settling down as the spark from earlier fizzles out. Niall can hear Louis' laugh from across the bar, but doesn't look up to see the smile that's undoubtedly on his face. Blur's playing overhead now and Niall can't stop picturing Liam on one knee apparently with a towel around his shoulders, his hair still wet, asking Harry to marry him.

"Can't believe they're getting married," it's out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Zayn refills his glass and hums. "It's crazy,” he says, and his hand finds its way to Niall's lower back and starts rubbing circles, Niall melting under the touch. He hadn't been aware that he was so tense. "I'm happy for them though. They make a good couple."

"I'm glad you're, like, apart of this. I'm glad you're here." Niall says, feeling brave as he turns to look at Zayn. But Zayn’s facing forward, watching Louis wiggle his way between Harry and Liam and giggling, the couple wrapping around Louis easily and crushing him between their bodies in what could pass as a hug if they weren't still swaying to the music. It's probably that and the fact that he's drunk that Niall continues, "It's always been like—like we've been missing something and you're. It works, y'know? We all fit. I don't know how to explain it."

Zayn catches his eye then, smile still there, but there's something in his eyes that Niall's inebriated brain isn't quite deciphering. Something a bit _more_. "Yeah." Zayn says, like he's trying to find stable ground. "I think—maybe I get what you mean. Like, I feel like everything kind of makes a bit more sense?"

"Yeah!" Niall sits up straighter.

He thinks about being twelve and meeting Liam after missing his bus and Liam's dad having to take him home after school and Niall excitedly inviting Liam for dinner to thank him; he thinks about the story of Liam meeting Harry after seeing his moleskin fall out of his haphazardly zipped backpack by the fountain on campus and Liam jogging after him to return it; he thinks about meeting Harry for the first time when they ran into him at the bookstore a little ways off campus where he worked freshman year and Liam blushing while introducing them, obviously not expecting to find Harry there; he thinks about meeting an overly friendly boy in the bathroom at the bar, the boy who turned out to be the Louis Niall was meant to meet that night and then finding out that they were in the same course; and then he thinks about Zayn being out on the balcony when Niall needed some air, about him being Harry's friend for so long but they hadn't met until that night, that single moment when Zayn needed a cigarette. "Fuck, bro,” Niall says, “It's like. It's _fate_."

Zayn looks amused, smiling back at Niall like he's just indulging him. Niall doesn't care either way. He knows what he's talking about, he knows what he's feeling. There's absolutely no other way to explain it at least not while he's still drunk.

"Maybe we should get you home, babe."

\---

Liam and Harry agree that it's fate, but Niall suspects it might just be because they're so disgustingly in love and they'd drink up any cosmic-like explanation for them finding each other. Louis just says, " _Neil_ ," and tries to twist his nipple.

But if their meetings weren't fate, it was that night, Niall’s sure of it. Something happened when they all stumbled out together into the late night/early morning as Louis hugged them in pairs and left in a cab with a satisfied smile and more cash than he'd arrived with, and Liam and Harry hailed their own to Harry's apartment, Liam smacking a kiss to Niall's forehead and Harry wrapping his arms around Zayn, and then leaving Niall and Zayn to their own devices.

Something clicked—right into place.

Zayn had pulled Niall into a cab and rattled off Niall's address like it was his own and let Niall lean against him the whole way there. Niall begged off him actually helping him into his apartment because he thinks he's done enough for tonight and Zayn smiles at him from the cab window and Niall feels the ground shifting beneath him.

And Niall can’t shake the overwhelming feeling that something is about to change.

\---

August comes, classes start, and they fall into each other, one layer at a time, this constant rhythm, and suddenly Zayn and Niall are thrown into the patterns of each other's lives. Suddenly they're texting each other about trying new foods, sending goofy pictures of themselves in classes when they’re too buzzed to pay any attention, and agreeing to meet up for lunch on rare breaks in their packed days. Suddenly Liam is asking why he’s smiling and turning red at his phone at breakfast before their 10 a.m. music course, second glazed donut (despite Liam's objections as the easily influenced fiancé of one Harry Styles) half eaten and forgotten on the table; Louis' making fun of him for buying a set of expensive paint brushes when they're supposed to be shopping for Liam because it’s nearly _his birthday_ and _definitely not Zayn’s_ , and Harry's blatantly asking him in a Starbucks line after a game of tennis at the Rec why he and Zayn are spending so much time together and being rather sneaky about it.

Niall doesn’t really have a proper answer because, well. He’s still trying to figure that out himself.

\--

It's a Tuesday when Niall leaves his first class of the day and he sees Zayn on campus, walking by the Physics building beside the prettiest blonde he thinks he's ever seen. They're both carrying art supplies and Niall thinks, almost reluctantly, _of course._

He doesn't necessarily like to read into things too often, but it's the way Zayn smiles at her as she talks, keeps her in his eye line so adamantly like he's afraid if he blinks she'd disappear. It's that intensity that makes Niall's stomach twist and turn like someone is trying to actually screw into it.

He wants to just walk away and pretend he hasn't seen them—trying to forget Zayn's number that he hadn't even meant to memorize and his face and all the time they'd spent together, mentally making a list of all the pieces of clothing he would have to wash multiple time in order to erase any trace of Zayn having worn them. Hell, he might have to burn down his and Liam's apartment. He'd hatch a plan to evacuate the building before he made his move, personally making sure everyone was out because honestly, he is a human being, despite the sudden empty and hollow feeling threatening to take over.

Naturally, of course, because Niall's life is apparently a comedy, just an all-around joke, as he turns around in sheer and utter panic to get away from impending embarrassment, he trips over the curb, bumps his hip against the edge of a bin, and meets the ground knee first.

It feels like the entire world surrounding him stops. Niall wishes he weren't so blatantly recognizable, hating himself for not wearing the beanie he'd thrown off his head before leaving the apartment, and thinking about how much money he could shell out to get him to a different country immediately.

But he doesn't dwell on the ground any longer than necessary, standing up with a determined grip on the straps of his backpack just as someone— _the_ someone says, "Niall?" and Niall rolls his eyes at himself or Zayn or the curb or the world and its ability to always make him feel like a complete idiot in more ways than one at the very same time.

He turns around and Zayn looks like he's really struggling between looking genuinely concerned or bending over and clutching his stomach laughing and Niall thinks walking in front of a bus would be less painful than this.

"I thought it was you, I just wasn't sure," Zayn is blatantly lying, but Niall is grateful, "Are you alright, man?"

Niall steps back before Zayn can even think about reaching out and giving him one of those sympathetic pats on the shoulder or the back or any part of his pathetic, traitorous body. He'd rather not feel his skin flush even hotter. "Hey—yeah, I'm. Fine. I have to go."

The blonde approaches then and she looks curious and beautiful but also a little upset because she's had to carry double what she originally started with and Niall doesn't want to even think about Zayn possibly dropping his things and running to see if someone he claims he only thought was Niall was all right.

"Well hang on a minute." Zayn touches him then, grabs his elbow before he can make a more graceful escape, and Niall's skin practically ignites. "Since I've got you here, yeah. I was gonna text you, ask if you were busy next week and if not, maybe you'd like to come to a show?"

Niall glances down at Zayn's loose grip on his elbow still, then at Zayn, and then the blonde who's smiling at him like he's just offered her the moon. It's a bit unsettling. "Oh. Uh...sure. I've. What kind of show?"

"He's being featured at a gallery!" The blonde gushes, which, while harmless, is what convinces Niall into to calling her Zayn's girlfriend, especially when Zayn very nearly blushes, and says, "It's not that big a deal. Just. I drew this thing—”

" _Masterpiece_." She cuts in.

“—and they put it into the show. I dunno, it's dumb." Zayn shrugs.

"It's not dumb! He's just being modest. Classes just started two weeks ago and he's already been spotted!" She says, and Niall likes her so much already he regrets picturing her being run over by a bus when he'd first saw her. He just wishes Zayn had told him, really, at any point in the last few months they've spent together. But it's. Like. It's whatever.

"Just wanted to invite you. I mean you're into music and it's got a similar theme so I thought you'd be interested and like, maybe.” He stops and realizes he's holding onto Niall still, and the shade of red on his face is probably the most endearing thing Niall's ever seen, but he mentally slaps himself. "Maybe we could—I mean the boys will be there as well. Well, Harry anyway, because he invited himself, but we could maybe like. Hang for a bit?"

The blonde is in proper giggles now beside Zayn, failing to hide her amusement behind her hand.

Niall grins a bit too much and feels a bit strange about the third wheeling, but it's Zayn so he says, "Cool, yeah. Sounds good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll probably bum a ride from Harry. Can't wait."

Zayn's mirroring grin looks almost as if he'd just gone out and conquered.

\--

The show is more of a showcase for hand drawn and digital media pieces—the first assignment of the semester, treated as a bit of a competition between the three sections of Zayn's upper level design course.

Niall shows up in a light blue button down with a plain white t-shirt underneath it because he felt like if he dressed up he'd look like an idiot who was obviously trying too hard to impress someone who seems too damn perfect to be impressed by anything because he's become numb as he's spent his whole life looking in the mirror and seeing the epitome of perfection.

He curses himself for showing up alone instead of waiting for Harry to get out of his late Thursday night class. He feels awkward and obviously out of place as he enters the studio that feels like it's just a basement where a bunch of artsy students just knocked out the walls and painted the outer ones to give it that homemade feel.

The room is surprisingly full: there are obvious students and less obvious ones, and stuffy looking middle aged men and women with wine glasses in their hands and chatting like the basement of the architectural studies building is a high end studio in New York.

There's a snack table, thankfully, and Niall makes his way straight over to it in order to have a reason to be idly standing and scoping out the room. He wants to dig out his phone and text Zayn a quick _actually something came up ! sorry !_ But before he can really think about it there's someone saying, "There you are!" and when he turns around, Niall has never been more relieved to see the blonde from that afternoon—Zayn's girlfriend—smiling at him.

"Hi! How are you? You look so smart!" She says, "We didn't really get a chance to properly introduce ourselves. I'm Perrie."

"Niall." Niall says, and she swats at him as if his introduction was unnecessary and hugs him rather than shakes his hand and afterwards glues herself to his side, linking their arms together. It's all very quick and Niall has to blink a few times to catch up.

"Zayn'll be so glad you came. This is brilliant. I can't wait to see his face." She teases, then, guiding him away from the table, "Both of your faces. Honestly, it's like no one else is even in the room."

"What?" Niall can barely hear her over the unsettling house music playing through grounded speakers that Niall wouldn't put it past the students to have been a vital part of the theme of the show.

Perrie shushes him as they approach Zayn who's got himself an arm around Liam's neck, pretending to punch his stomach with dramatic arm movements. Niall tries desperately not to look too fond but really. It's so hard.

"Oh cut it out, you two. For god’s sake." Perrie drags Niall along with every movement she makes and brings them to a halt in front of the boys. Niall tries not to be offended that Liam hadn't told him he was coming, or offered to show up with him so he wouldn't have felt as awkward as he did.

Zayn looks up at the sound of Perrie's voice, laughing, and god. Niall tries not to read into the way his entire face lights up even more when he sees Niall. "Hi!" He says, and Liam mimics the greeting with an accompanying, "Save me!"

But Niall's honestly too busy focusing on trying not to run away screaming and pulling his hair out.

"You're next." Zayn warns Perrie, pointing what is intended to be a threatening finger at her, but he’s smiling too hard so the effect is lost.

She just sticks her tongue out at him anyway and since she's still holding on to him, not-so-subtly-at-all gestures to Niall.

"Oh. Right." Zayn lets Liam go but not without rubbing his newly shaved head for good measure and "Good luck!" he explains.

"Hey. Hi." He says again giving Niall quite an obvious once over, "You look good."

Niall says, "Hi." And doesn't move his eyes away from Zayn's. He wants to say _you look better_ , but he's not smooth at all, Louis has warned him about that many times. "Thanks. Thank you. You're looking pretty nice as well?"

"Is that a question?" Liam buts in, like an asshole, "Hey, Perrie, how do I look?"

Perrie bats her eyes, "Very handsome, if I may say so myself."

"Shut up, I hate you both. So much." Zayn tells them, running a hand down his face and looking at Niall apologetically.

Perrie just snorts, "Sure you do, love. How about you go and give Niall a look at your shit art, then, huh?"

"It's complete shit. Just disappointing, Zayn. Honestly, I expected better," Liam says and Niall laughs when Zayn grunts, "Shut up, Liam," and punches his arm. Liam tackles him onto the most randomly placed couch Niall has ever seen.

"Stop it!” Perrie doesn’t hold back, slapping Zayn right in the ass, “Do you want to get kicked out of your own show?"

Zayn makes a face at Perrie who makes a more significant face right back at him, Niall only guesses, because it completely changes his expression. He looks sheepish as he climbs off of where he's pinned Liam and flips him off before holding out his hand to Niall.

"Come on. Perrie and Liam will get us drinks."

When Perrie hands him off to Zayn, Niall feels an awful like he's just been handed off like a bride and immediately erases that thought from his mind.

Zayn navigates the crowd much better than Niall could, easing his way around lingerers and gazers. He's quiet for maybe a fraction of the time before he's breaking their silence and saying, "Sorry I'm not. Like. Better? Should've been the one to find you instead of the other way around."

Niall says, "It's all right," loud enough for Zayn to hear him.

"Right. I forget who you are."

"How's that?"

Zayn stops walking, pausing in front of the snack table and grabbing two granola bars, immediately handing one to Niall, "I've heard stories."

Niall wrestles with the wrapper, reading the label before shrugging and ripping it open, "I hope they're good ones?"

"Aren't they all?" Zayn bumps his shoulder against his, already half way done with his bar. "No, but Harry's always going on about you. I can't remember a conversation where you haven't been brought up, like." Zayn explains, "even if I'm talking about needing to buy milk, he comes up with this story about how you once tried to drink a whole gallon of milk in one sitting."

Niall chuckles at the memory, "Oh yeah! Ha! I threw—”

"You threw up in the bathtub. Yeah, I've heard that one about a million times." Zayn says, but he's smiling, "Liam's got the habit of telling Niall stories as well. Everyone's a bit in love with you, it seems."

"Nah." Niall says, "I just do stupid things and everyone remembers them."

"Yeah, but when they talk about you it's like. Like they're the happiest they've ever been, you know? I was starting to think you weren't real. Before I met you on the balcony. For a moment I really believed you were a dream. Like I'd fallen asleep out there and you just appeared. Out of nowhere. All bright and shiny."

Niall has to ignore this revelation and keep on trucking or he'll pass out, "Well I am. Real that is. Flesh and blood."

"Yeah." Zayn says, and smiles at him. "I guess I just had to make sure of it myself."

Niall swears by god he hadn't even realized that he and Zayn were still holding hands even through the wrestling with and eating of their granola bars, but when Zayn finally lets it go, after leading Niall a little further into the middle of the room, Niall feels like he's just lost something terribly important and vital.

"Here we are." Zayn announces, "My shit art."

Niall gets the wind knocked out of him, taking in Zayn's sketch and digital rendering of the music studio, "You're good at this," he breathes.

Zayn makes a face and Niall adds it to his list of Favorite Things About Zayn. "Be honest, Niall. I'm counting on you."

"What? I'm serious. You're kind of brilliant. This is. Zayn."

"It’s brilliant shit?"

"No. Forget the shit. I'd buy this and hang it right in the doorway so it's the first thing people see when they come in. And then I'd spend every cent I have in order to make this space come to life."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. It's...welcoming? Warm. Happy." Niall says. "So chill. It makes me feel safe and like, I don’t know. Content. I can't stop looking at it. I just feel—shit. I feel so _okay_ right now I feel it in my bones."

Zayn clears his throat, a tiny little frown disrupting his features. "Huh. Ok." He says, "Niall—”

"You wanted the truth."

"Yeah, but—" Zayn shakes his head, smiling kind of like he's actually embarrassed. Niall is about to poke fun at him, tease him about the blush in his cheeks, but Perrie and Liam use that moment to return with Harry in tow.

"There he is!" Harry says, enveloping Zayn in a hug and then giving a careless wave in Niall's direction. "How are you? Where is it? I haven't seen it finished yet."

Niall watches Harry take Zayn's attention until there's a drink shoved in his face and a hand on his shoulder. "They've only got shitty wine. I tried begging for a beer." Liam shrugs.

"S'alright," Niall says, "Where's Louis?"

"Grading." Liam says and rolls his eyes. "Can you believe it? Louis Tomlinson of all people turning down an opportunity to drink and make fun of pretentious artsy students and he wants to stay home with his girlfriend and grade. I told him me and Harry were going to get drunk and try to make out with Zayn just to prove to them how much he's missing."

Niall doesn’t know how that makes any sense, but he asks, "How's that going?"

"He doesn't want to get in the middle of whatever fucked up foreplay he thinks me and Harry are into with Louis and El. But I haven't given up just yet. We just have to catch him in a good mood.”

"You sure Perrie won't mind?"

Liam raises an eyebrow, "Don't think she cares? This is about messing with Louis, Nialler."

"Good luck with that?"

"Yeah. I don't know what Harry's playing at but — hold on, hold this — I've got to get in there before Harry ends up giving him a 'I'm so excited to see you' hand job." Liam presses his wine glass into Niall's other hand and joins the two, sliding in between them.

Niall shakes his head and turns to look for Perrie who's caught the attention of a significantly older man, staring her down. She doesn't seem too pleased and Zayn obviously isn't able to intervene, so Niall makes himself useful, downing both his glass and Liam's before intervening.

"Hey,” he says, sliding his arm around Perrie's waist in what he hopes to be a protective sort of gesture and not as creepy as the guy who's creeping. "You all right, babe?" He asks, and thankfully Perrie wraps her arm around his back. Niall can feel her relax.

"I'm fine, yeah." Perrie smiles at him and the guy frowns as Niall holds his hand out.

"How's it going, man?"

He shakes his head and says, "I'm sorry. My mistake." and Niall tries not to laugh until the man is lost in the crowd.

Perrie turns and pinches his sides and Niall flinches because he's actually very ticklish thank you very much. "Thank you! He was a right weirdo that one. I almost kneed him towards the end."

"Wasn't gonna let him lay a finger on you."

"What a hero,” Perrie rolls her eyes, then, “I like you," She says, "What've you done with the rest?"

"I think they've gone and had a threesome, actually."

Perrie scoffs, "And we weren't invited to watch?" She grabs his hand and Niall can't help the smile that takes over his face, "No. Come on. They're not taking off any clothing until we're there to see it."

\---

It's later that night, after Niall and Perrie find Harry and Liam shamelessly flirting with an amused Zayn, that they decide to ditch the showcase and meet up at Zayn and Perrie's apartment. Once they've got more drinks and more food in them after Harry takes it upon himself to cook them the frozen veggie burgers in their freezer, Zayn and Niall end up sitting on top of the roof, their feet dangling over the edge. Niall doesn't look down.

It's probably dangerous and stupid but Niall still feels kind of safe and warm like he has all night, surrounded by Zayn. Like everything else, Niall just wants to sweep that thought under the rug and then think about it when he's lying awake at night.

"Sorry I disappeared. At the show. It's just. Liam was trying to take pictures of me and Harry kissing, I think? And—”

"Zayn, it's okay. I had fun with Perrie."

"Right." Zayn nods his head, distant, "She's a good girl."

"She's great." Niall admits, upset that he’s actually telling the truth.

"I uh...well I don't really like going many places without her. She's my rock, you know?"

Niall tries not to roll his eyes or clutch his chest at that. It's very hard. He hums, "How long have you two been together?"

Zayn stops swinging his legs and looks at Niall amusedly. "Um. What?"

Niall frowns, "What?"

And Zayn bursts out laughing, this adorable hyena laugh that Niall has yet to hear and now that he has he never wants to hear anything ever again in his whole god forsaken life.

Zayn laughs until he can't anymore, pulling himself together enough to say, "Oh no, _Niall_."

Niall would be offended if Zayn hadn't leaned his head on his shoulder to get himself under control.

When he finally does, he says, "We're not together. Never have been. What. Okay. I thought I'd done this right."

“Oh." Niall says, and feels confused as he tries to catch up. "But I thought—”

"We're friends. She's my best friend. Niall, why would I invite you to hang out if I had a girlfriend?"

"I don't know? What are we...what does hanging out even mean?"

"I don't even think I know anymore."

They sit in silence for a moment until Niall laughs. "Okay. I, uh. We should try again."

"What?"

"Hanging out. Whatever that means to you. Properly."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know. I just--I want us to be friends, yeah?"

"Me too." Zayn says, and he looks down like he's going to blush. "I'd like that a lot."

\--

As it goes, following that night, regardless of how busy their schedules get, they make sure to make time for each other. Doing it up properly, the hanging out thing that Niall still doesn't understand, but he finds himself putting a lot more effort into seeing Zayn during the week than he remembers ever doing for Liam, who has been his best friend since forever, or even Harry but definitely not Louis.

They text each other meeting places and times and they’re only able to see each other less than five minutes, but still that doesn’t stop them from smiling and trying to excitedly fit five or six hours of useless anecdotes about their days into the span of minutes, or sometimes sitting tiredly in silence, just relaxing in each other's company.

There are some days where Niall brings Zayn coffee when he knows he's barely making it through the day, and others, where Zayn brings Niall overpriced candy from the vending machine when he knows Niall's in for a lengthy lecture with no time for a proper meal. Niall, the childish romantic, always splits whatever he has evenly between them like they're five years old again. Zayn's responding grateful smile is always the same, and always makes Niall's stomach flutter.

\--

On Liam's birthday in late August, just over a week after they'd officially started hanging out, Liam attends a cancer benefit run held on the track of a local high school and the four of them decide to meet to cheer him on from the sidelines.

Harry is on full Proud Boyfriend mode for most of the day. He and Zayn spent over two hours the night before making an encouraging poster for the run that Harry assures is completely necessary and effective in encouraging Liam's drive.

He's packed a proper picnic basket and brought blankets for them all to sit on with wine glasses and a bottle of wine to share among them. It's so quite charmingly _Harry_ that they all just indulge him and keep the teasing to a minimum.

On Liam's third time around the track, Harry coerces him into stopping and drinking exactly three fourths of a bottle of water before kissing him on the cheek and sending him on his way again. He politely demands Niall to take plenty of pictures of Liam all sweaty and in his shorts because he's too jittery and nervous and Louis would just take pictures of his own junk.

This was Niall’s goal, honestly, but then Zayn shows up notoriously late and hugs him and bites his neck softly, friendly, with a “Hey, babe,” Niall loses himself completely.

He's not even sure when exactly the race ends and he only comes to when they're all saying goodbye after sandwiches and hummus and crackers.

It's when Harry is going through the pictures of the run on the camera roll, three days later, sat on top of Niall's bed, when his commentary on each photo ceases, and Niall looks up at the sudden silence, immediately regretting it as Harry’s frown deepens. "You have a lot of pictures of him."

Niall blinks. He hasn't really approached the subject with himself, refusing to acknowledge the way the dynamic between him and Zayn has noticeably altered.

"I guess he is pretty, isn't he." Harry says, like it justifies everything, and Niall wonders if the blush on his face is noticeable.

\--

“I bought a fish,” Zayn announces, walking into the apartment before Niall’s even got the door fully open. “Please tell me you’ve got an empty container lying around.”

“Why have you bought a fish?” Niall asks, pausing in the door before shutting it and saying, “You know what – nevermind,” he shrugs, realizing it’s best not to question Zayn’s spontaneity anymore, “What are you doing? You’re making a mess.”

“Trust me, this is an improvement,” His voice sounds like an echo with his head stuck in the lower cabinets by the sink, “You can’t have your pans just thrown in with your Tupperware.”

“I’m sorry, is your name on the lease?”

“Should be,” Zayn pops back up with one of Liam’s Tupperware and takes it to the sink. “My gran would have a fit if she saw the state of this place.”

“It’s half bachelor pad. It’s not supposed to be clean.” Niall argues, and hates himself for it.

“Well it sure isn’t that.” Zayn makes a face at the dishes in the sink, moving them aside to fill up what’s apparently going to be his fishbowl. “You should hire a maid. And by that I mean you should pay me to clean since I do it anyway.”

“Never asked you to.”

“And you’ve never told me stop,” Zayn challenges, “I can’t imagine the pile of filth you’d be living in if you hadn’t met me.”

“Good thing I met you then, huh?”

“Damn good thing.” Zayn grabs the plastic bag with the fish in it and pours him into his new home, smiling at him. “Gonna name him Niall.”

“Don’t name your fish after me,” Niall groans.

“Our fish. And it’s too late. He’s heard it now. If we change it, he’ll only get confused. And you don’t want to be confused do you, Niall?” Zayn lifts the container up to his ear, listening to the sound of nothing, and being obnoxiously cute to the point where Niall considers getting the hell out of there fast. “Mmm. He says he likes the name. And wishes you would hold him and accept him as your fish counterpart.” Zayn holds out the container, smiling, “It’d really mean a lot to him, Niall.”

Niall rolls his eyes, but plays along, because Zayn deserves it. He takes the container and stares at the goldfish, its beady eyes staring right back at him, fearless. “Fine. You can be my fish counterpart. But you better pull your weight around here. This is the real world. You can’t get by swimming around all day. I expect rent on the first of the month.”

“He’s good for it,” Zayn assures.

“Who’s good for what?” Liam asks, walking into the kitchen, with his headphones around his neck, “Hey, Zayn.”

Zayn nods his head in greeting, “Bought a fish. He’s moving in. Named him Niall.”

“Aw,” Liam coos, joining Niall and Zayn at the counter, where Niall’s sat the container down, “He’s cute, just like you, Nialler.” He goes to ruffle Niall’s hair, but Niall smacks his hand away, and says, “Quit it. I’m cuter.”

“That’s debatable. What are you two doing later? I’ve been craving a margarita. Let’s go out to dinner.”

Niall looks to Zayn who shrugs and says, “We didn’t plan anything.”

Liam laughs, shaking his head, “’We’, huh?” He says, “You spend every waking moment together now?”

“You’re always off with Harry, we’ve got to make our own fun.”

“Bet you do,” Liam mumbles, but Niall hears him and frowns.

“We don’t spend every moment together,” He stresses, feeling like, if not for Zayn’s sake, for the both of theirs, that he needs to clear this up. They have their own lives. Except that maybe those lives mainly involve a lot of the same activities and Zayn accidentally falling asleep in Niall’s bed and spending the night, waking up and having no time to go back to his apartment before he has to go to class, pulling on Niall’s clothes, and kissing Niall on the cheek on his way out the door.

“Sure,” Liam says, like he’s seen inside Niall’s head. Niall chances a glance at Zayn, but he’s just making ridiculous fishy faces at fish Niall. “Let’s go out, then,” Liam steers them back on topic, “We haven’t been out in ages. Zayn—you in?”

“Nah. It’s Wednesday, yeah? I’ve got a preliminary sketch due tomorrow.”

Liam looks disappointed, “All right,” he says, “I’m calling Harry.”

Niall rolls his eyes, “Of course you are,” he teases, “Making me the third wheel.”

“You love being the third wheel?” Liam tells him, but it’s more like a question, like he’s suddenly unsure. He sighs, “Fine. We’ll just go. You and me.”

“Sounds fun,” Zayn says, “If you start making out, Haz and me’ll expect pictures.”

“Nah,” Liam says, pulling Zayn into his side and kissing the side of his head, “You’d get a video, mate.”

\--

Niall and Liam are studying for the first quiz for their Collective Behavior class when Niall gets a text from Zayn:

_I lost my glasses_

_: ( where did you leave them_

_put them on your table they’re not there_ Zayn texts, and then: _niall tell the truth … did you eat them? it’s ok you can tell me :p_

Niall smiles and glances up at Liam who’s shaking his head at his textbook, highlighter cap in his mouth, not paying attention.

 _Ha ! might have !_ He sends, _check my room payno might have put them there_

Zayn doesn’t respond back as quickly and Niall sets his phone beside his textbook and gives his attention back to their revising – although his train of thought has all but left him.

“Were you talking to Zayn?”

Niall jumps, his pen falling out of his hand. “Yeah,” he collects himself. “He lost his glasses,” Niall says, shrugging, and Liam stares at him, the smile on his face telling him he’s amused. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” Liam shrugs, looking overly pleased with himself.

Niall would further interrogate him, but his phone vibrates obnoxiously against the wood of the table, and he forgets how to think for a moment, just hurries to pick it up.

It’s a selfie of Zayn grinning into the camera and holding his thumb up, looking dorky, with the caption _found them_. And Niall smiles and saves the picture to his camera roll for safe keeping.

\--

And suddenly—

Their very first kiss isn't exactly fireworks inducing, it's just. It's like this: it's kind of the best kiss that Niall has ever had.

It's not even during a special occasion. Niall's birthday isn't for another week and half. And it’s not like Niall would have rather Zayn had kissed him on his birthday, or anything as stupid as that, it’s just that. A little warning would have been nice.

They're all in Louis' apartment, the five of them, watching a movie, drinking, and mostly crowded onto one couch together, with Harry taking the only other armchair for himself and his long limbs. It happens when Niall gets up to get another beer.

He's closing the fridge door when hands press into his hips and turn him around before he even has a chance to react. He expects Zayn, but is still surprised when he meets the intensity of Zayn's eyes, blaming the shiver that coursed through his body solely on the element of surprise. Niall opens his mouth to fill the awkward silence that ensues, but Zayn closes it shut with his own.

Later, when he's lying awake in his bed, Niall remembers sagging into Zayn's hold, chasing after the hesitant press of his lips almost breathlessly. He remembers the way Zayn ran his fingertips into the hair at the back of his neck, how his thumb dipped to rub the skin just below his waistline, remembers how he couldn't control his hand on Zayn's spine, opening it flat against his arched back, then balling it back up, digging his fingers into his palm in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He remembers thinking he could drown in Zayn's arms, surrounded, engulfed by his warmth, by the taste of his lips.

They return to the movie separately, Zayn with a bag of chips, grinning as he crunches, Niall with his beer. But Niall can’t help it as he sits closer to Zayn on the couch, close enough for their entire bodies to touch from shoulder to knee, feeling like they’ve just gotten away with something.

\--

On Niall's birthday, Harry uses the key Liam and Niall got made for him on their anniversary of meeting at the bookstore he used to work at to let himself into the apartment.

While Niall's sleeping, he makes him breakfast and when Niall tries to come out of his room to piss, Harry shoos him back in with a "Happy birthday, old man!" and convinces Niall to let him bring it to him in bed.

He makes them omelets and toast and pours one giant glass of orange juice and they both sit in Niall's bed and watch television while they eat.

Niall groans when he finishes it, scraping the plate with his fork. "Fucking hell, Harry. Can you marry me instead?"

Harry makes a faux surprised face, and it's a lot goofier than cute, "Thank you, Niall."

"Does this mean I have to make you breakfast for your birthday?"

"Nah. You can't cook to save your life." Harry pokes his cheek and bites into his toast. "I figured I wouldn't get to see you once Zayn got a hold of you."

Niall hums, brushing crumbs off of his lap, then, "Hold on. What?"

"It's okay." Harry continues, "We've had you every year. He told me he had plans so. Liam tells me I'm too possessive of you."

"Plans?"

Harry frowns, "Well, okay. That was probably a surprise." Harry shrugs his shoulders, his hair is getting too long, and it’s hanging in his face more than usual. "Pretend to be surprised when you see him?" He pats Niall's head, "I'm gonna go clean the dishes. You finished?"

Niall nods, distracted and lets Harry take his plate into the kitchen.

\---

Zayn shows up around noon with the sides of his head shaved, strip of hair falling into his face, wearing glasses, shorts, and a white Stone Roses t-shirt. And even with Harry's advice to act surprised lodged in the back of his mind, Niall finds that he genuinely is. But he figures that he might be speechless for entirely different reasons.

The kiss, about a week ago now, still hasn't been mentioned. And Niall finds himself wanting to pull Zayn in and remind him.

Zayn grins and nudges his glasses up on his nose and Niall is given a split second warning before he's got an arm full of him.

"Happy birthday!"

The force of the hug tips them over a bit and Niall blames his lack of balance on the way that his arms tighten around Zayn's torso.

"Thank you," he says, unable to stop smiling, "but most people just send text messages. Or at least arrive with something to give me."

"Your gift is my presence." Zayn kicks the door shut and then out at Niall. "Put clothes on. I'm taking you out."

Niall grunts, "It's noon. I'm sleepin'," he says, "Your hair looks sick."

Zayn shrugs, shaking it out of his eyes, "S'cool, like. But no--you're not, if I'm not. I woke up on a Saturday for you, Niall."

"Didn't ask you to." Niall teases, but nearly skips to get dressed anyway.

\---

They get froyo and go to the zoo.

There's a new exhibit for Big Cats that Zayn is excited to show Niall. He brags about it the entire way through getting tickets and passing the lesser animals that are irrelevant to their trip. But Niall loves the lesser animals and takes a picture of a platypus and sends it to Perrie and she sends him a picture of her flipping off the camera.

Zayn excitedly follows one of the wandering peacocks and Niall takes pictures of him and tries not to sigh too hard. He hopes his admiration is hidden behind his phone.

At one point, Zayn snatches his phone and holds it out in front of them and takes an embarrassing couple-like photo as they're standing in front of the Big Cat exhibit that's really just like the other exhibits, but with a nerve-wracking amount of lions.

Niall wouldn't admit it if someone asked, but he fell a little bit in love with Zayn, realizing as he chased after him across the bridge into the area that held the monkeys as Zayn shouted in that voice he likes to put on, "Let’s go and see the monkeys, yeah?"

Niall says, "I bet we can find Liam's cousin!"

"Oh!" Zayn trips a little, as he walks, making Niall smile harder, "Niall has jokes, huh?"

They're tired after their trek through different countries to see correctly geographically located animals, exhaustion in their bones like little kids who've just crashed after a sugar rush.

Zayn throws his arm over Niall's shoulder and says, with a lazy grin, "Look at you. Being all cute. I like making you smile."

Niall doesn't know how to respond to that so he doesn't. Just punches Zayn's arm and challenges him to a race back to the car.

\--

"I'm starving. D'you want to just get dinner now? I was gonna take you out all extra special and nice." Zayn says, once he's behind the wheel and trying to maneuver out of the parking lot.

"Why're you doing all this?" Niall asks, out of the blue. He'd been thinking about it all day, but didn't want to ruin the mood. He'd been having a bit too much fun.

"I told you,” Zayn shrugs, and he might be blushing. Niall really hopes he's blushing. He’s done that a lot, "I like making you smile."

"Thank you." Niall tells him, and he kisses Zayn on the cheek and then just as quickly on the corner of his mouth because he deserves it and that's what he's going to keep tell himself.

"Oh. Right, well I guess I should make you smile more?"

"Shut up, you idiot." Niall laughs. "I'm going to have to step up for your birthday."

Zayn hums. "You could fly me to Paris."

Niall wants to not read into everything insinuated with vacationing in the most romantic city in the world. "Sorry—I don't believe we've met? I'm Niall Horan: jobless sociology and music student. I live off of financial aid and my parent’s money? Nice to meet you."

Zayn rolls his eyes, but Niall can see the smirk that pops up on his face, "Like. We could make a holiday out of it. Not for my birthday. All of us! That'd be wicked."

"You'd have to go to Liam with an entire PowerPoint presentation. Louis's be all for it. Harry'll do whatever you want him to. Have you noticed that? He won't even think sometimes. Just 'okay'"

"S'weird, like, but he likes pleasing everyone.” Zayn agrees, “Could happen, though. With some planning."

"Do what you want. It's still my birthday though and you promised to take me out. So take me out."

Zayn looks like he's planning something, but smiles and starts the car. "Course. Sorry. Put on your seatbelt. You saw the wreck we almost got into on the way here. I can't have you flying out of the car on your birthday."

"All right, mother."

"Just looking out for you. Someone's got to, right?"

\---

It's a tantalizingly slow progression throughout the end of September. It almost kills Niall, he swears. The bridge closing between the two of them. Niall and Zayn becoming NiallandZayn.

First kisses turn into second kisses on second official dates and third kisses and four and later, ten, but only then does Niall stop counting.

Niall finds out that Zayn likes kissing more than anything—likes the languid press of lips, the cautious slip of the tongue, the rapid intensity and enthusiasm as the extent of a kiss lengthens, and the way it makes Niall's cheeks flush an enticing red, his lips shiny, puffed, and pink.

There are some weekends—when Zayn’s not stacking books at the university bookstore for extra cash and Niall isn't holed up in his room attempting to study when he has enough heavy, uninterrupted silence to keep himself motivated—that they spend minutes accidentally turned into hours familiarizing themselves with each other’s lips, lying on top of Niall's bed, fingers sliding gently, calculated, over carefully exposed skin, knocking Niall's textbooks to the floor to be forgotten with a striking crash.

And, okay, it's not like Niall hadn't seen it coming, hadn’t pictured it the moment his eyes landed on Zayn on that balcony, hadn’t dreamt about it those one, three, or seven times.

There's no conversation. No fanfare. It just sort of happens. They hold hands under tables and share dessert at dinner. They take turns paying for each other's meals and opt out of group outings to lock themselves up in Zayn's room to watch movies or listen to Drake while Zayn draws and Niall packs a bowl and pretends he's not watching him, all the while Perrie and her friends laugh in the front room, her especially charismatic friend, Jesy, always jokingly making inappropriate noises every time one of them comes out of the room.

Their schedules further blend into each other and Niall remembers Zayn has a midterm exam in late October and texts Zayn supportive messages throughout the night before and surprises him outside his apartment the morning of with coffee and pastries and walks him to his building. He waits outside for an hour and a half, staring blearily at the pages of his Race, Gender, and Sexuality textbook and sipping at cold coffee until Zayn gets out. He's not surprised to see Niall still waiting, but pleased. Not but twenty minutes later, he's putting his arm around Niall during a movie to celebrate his not passing out during a very important and possibly life changing exam and kisses him on the cheek as if saying "thank you" and thankfully Niall’s blush is hidden in the dark of the theater.

But hey, god forbid after three months of dancing around each other and then making out on each other's couches, and cooking each other proper dinner that do not require microwaveable instructions, _god forbid_ someone even utters the word "boyfriend".

It's so flippantly casual between the two of them that when they introduce each other to cousins on Skype or run into friends from class, or speak on the phone to their families about each other it's just, "my—um. Niall," or "Zayn, you know Zayn, yeah?" just in the same tone that Niall would talk about Louis' teaching experience to his brother or give his mother updates on Harry's potential novel and Liam's ongoing existential crisis.

It's so obvious that their lack of acknowledgement doesn't really matter. It's not hard to sense there's something more between them than just a couple guys being guys and messing around.

\---

It's a Tuesday night in November and they have plans for dinner at an Italian restaurant—the one they went to with the boys where Niall ordered every meal off of the kid's menu and they'd ended up staying behind after the other three left and sharing three plates of dessert.

Zayn shows up at Niall and Liam's apartment and kisses him in the doorway slowly and deliberately, until Niall feels himself come apart at his lips, complacency emanating from his body. "You're ridiculous." Niall tells him, very reluctantly pulling himself away, and Zayn closes the door and looks unnervingly happy, his smile tugging deep in the alcoves of Niall's chest.

It's sickening the way Niall thinks about dropping everything, losing his mind, and taking Zayn's hand and leading him to his bedroom, flattening him out on the mattress and straddling his small waist. He thinks about linking their fingers together and pressing Zayn's arms over his head, into the sheets, while he kisses him. He thinks about how Zayn's hands would come up to his hips, holding him in place, still. And he thinks about them lying together with Niall on his side, his head propped on his fist as his other hand traces lazy patterns on Zayn's body, slowly, teasingly until Zayn's skin was riddled with goosebumps.

He blinks instead, and kisses Zayn's stupidly endearing eyelids and says, "Maybe we could stay in?" as an alternative to going out in public and being tempted to stick his hands down Zayn's pants.

"Yes." Zayn answers, without hesitation, like he's right there with Niall. At this point, Niall wouldn't be surprised if Zayn could read his mind.

"We could watch a movie?" He considers his collection, or lack thereof, and scrunches his nose up. He doesn't even own Anchorman, he realizes, which is just ridiculous. He always just catches it on television. And Liam's collection consists solely of Batman and Iron Man movies and he's not sure he and Zayn can sit through one of those again for probably the fourth time this month alone. That's more Louis and Liam's thing, and occasionally Harry's, but only if Liam bribes him with the promise of sexual favors that involve Liam's batman costume from a year ago.

Zayn's soft chuckle interrupts Niall's thoughts and immediately floods his body with warmth. "Sorry, but I'm not really in the mood for the one Ninja Turtles DVD you own. Just put on some music, yeah? I'll make some noodles or something. I wanna hear about your week."

Liam's iPod is in the dock so they end up listening to a predictable mix of Jay-Z, JT, and Kanye. They curl on the couch together and talk about Niall nearly losing it on a kid in his Sociology of Gender class and Zayn having to defend one of his pieces to the class during one of his professor's weekly spontaneous design challenges.

Zayn ends up falling asleep explaining the details of the movie theater he's designing for his project, lying on Niall's shoulder.

\---

Liam doesn't really understand it. But to be fair, neither does Niall, really.

"Are you together, then?"

And the question's caught Niall off guard as he's cleaning up after dinner with him and Harry, and Zayn, and he stops moving, letting his hands sink further into the warm and soapy dish water.

Liam doesn't even allow him to properly answer. "Because this seemed a lot like a double date."

"We were going to tell you at the end of the night." Niall answers, truthfully.

Niall can't read Liam's face, doesn't quite know what to make of the way his features move.

"Have you told Louis?"

"We didn't have to."

Louis had been the one to walk in on them, kissing slowly against the counter in his own bathroom after they'd excused themselves under the assumption that they were both going to find aspirin for Zayn's headache. They must have been gone too long. Louis had blinked and said, "Wow," and they'd watched as he'd left, shutting the door pointedly behind him. Zayn really did have a headache, Niall just wanted to kiss it better.

Niall got a text when they'd all left that just said: _me and el had a bet you lost me sex for a week :(_

Liam glances over his shoulder, cautiously, at where Harry and Zayn were on the couch. Harry had a wine glass in his hand, examining one of Zayn's records in the other. A lot more of Zayn's things had managed to make their way into their apartment, but neither of them have actually felt the need to have a sit down to chat about it. It was quite amusing really, as Zayn's things were slowly moving in as Liam's were slowly moving out.

"I want—” and he stops, turns his body to grip at the edge of the sink. He doesn't look up from the way his fingers curl around the marble as he says, "I want you to be careful."

Niall feels a sharp tug in his chest, his eyes softening at the worry bleeding off of his best friend. "Hey, I’m careful. Always. You don't have to worry, Li. He's—it's good."

"I don't want you to get hurt." And it's along the lines of the same speech Niall remembers giving Liam when things with Harry started becoming more than a few playful punches in the balls, when Harry's tendency to want to hold Liam's hand led to Liam's drive to squeeze back.

Niall smiles at the parallels, at how funny things seem to progress. He takes his hand out of the water to squeeze Liam's own, ignoring the frown that decorates Liam's face when he does. And he says, "I won't."

And it's like, for the first time in a while, he's entirely confident that it might be true.

\---

They haven't actually had sex and _that's_ what Harry doesn't understand, not the nature of their relationship.

"Then what do you like. Do?" He sounds genuinely perturbed about it, a deep frown decorating his face to the point where it's almost comical. Niall understands his confusion based on the fact that Harry and Liam's relationship was built off of constantly having their hands on each other's dicks.

Niall explains that they haven't really talked about it and it's enough for both of them, for now, at least, that they make out and feel each other up a bit. He doesn't really feel like explaining to Harry what it's like—what kissing feels like to them. He's not quite sure anyone would really understand. How _together_ it makes them feel. That it’s more than just kissing, it's losing themselves in each other. And that's something that Niall can't even explain to himself, let alone another person.

But the first time they do have sex, it rains all night. They'd kept the night simple, grabbing burgers and browsing through shops where at one point, Zayn seriously considers buying a puppy, insisting that Perrie would die and never complain about him leaving dishes in the sink again.

It's when they're walking close together under one umbrella and giggling about it because Zayn doesn't actually own one and Niall only does because he'd nicked it from Liam on his way out the door, when the atmosphere around them changes and Niall's skin feels hot when Zayn's hand slides down to grip the umbrella above his.

They end up tracking water into Zayn's apartment and kissing each other and pulling at wet clothes until they're in Zayn's bedroom where Zayn runs his mouth over the wetness at Niall's neck. And their breathing increases, like they've been running a mile, and suddenly Niall is sliding his hands underneath Zayn's shirt and dragging his nails against the skin and saying, "We should..."

And Zayn stops kissing him, stock still, and stares down into his eyes, searching, before nodding his head jerkily and replying, "Yeah, yeah, just—”and Niall prompts him to raise his arms over his head and Zayn lets him.

It's a lot slower than Niall expects. Zayn treats him delicately, like he's afraid he'll break him if he handles him too rough. Niall closes his eyes and tightens his hold on the back of Zayn's neck, clenching his fist around the hair there and focuses on the way Zayn's breathing is muffled into his neck, leans into the sloppy kisses Zayn leaves on the skin. When Niall comes first, Zayn strokes him through it, slowly, and Niall feels like he's crumbling apart at each touch, bit by bit.

Niall bites his shoulder as if thanking him.

Zayn just laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December comes and somehow Zayn gets even prettier.
> 
> Niall finds that he quite likes Zayn's eyelashes, the way they look against his skin when he's asleep, the way they rise and fall lazily as he takes the first drag off of a cigarette, but mostly—mostly the way they flutter when he comes, with Niall's mouth bringing him off, slowly, teasingly, Zayn's hand buried in Niall's hair, then gripping the sheets, weakly, searching for some kind of anchor to keep him grounded. He likes it best when he can crawl up the length of Zayn's body, fitting himself between his open and welcoming thighs, and kiss him until he comes down, his lips, his cheek, the tip of his nose, and brush his lips over his eyelids.

“ _Words bounce. Words, if you let them, will do what they want to do and what they have to do_.” ―Anne Carson

December comes and somehow Zayn gets even prettier.

Niall finds that he quite likes Zayn's eyelashes, the way they look against his skin when he's asleep, the way they rise and fall lazily as he takes the first drag off of a cigarette, but mostly—mostly the way they flutter when he comes, with Niall's mouth bringing him off, slowly, teasingly, Zayn's hand buried in Niall's hair, then gripping the sheets, weakly, searching for some kind of anchor to keep him grounded. He likes it best when he can crawl up the length of Zayn's body, fitting himself between his open and welcoming thighs, and kiss him until he comes down, his lips, his cheek, the tip of his nose, and brush his lips over his eyelids.

It's more of a declaration than Niall cares to admit.

Two weeks before break and one week before finals, they find themselves on the couch, facing each other, passing a carton of ice cream back and forth despite the fact that there is snow melting on the ground.

Occasionally, they'll feed each other, Niall closing his mouth around the dripping ice cream on Zayn's finger, and Zayn dragging his cold tongue over Niall's cheek, granted with a pleasantly disgusted grunt from Niall and a shove at his chest.

It's when Zayn is rejected a particularly chocolatey finger full of ice cream that he says, "Move in with me."

Niall blinks, lets his freezing finger fall slowly out of his mouth. "What?"

"Let's get our own place." he says.

Niall laughs nervously, bringing his legs up closer to his chest. "What?" He asks, "What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying.”

Niall does, but that doesn’t mean he understands. “I,” he stops, “Are you sure?"

"I'm definitely sure." Zayn responds and he sounds so confident, like he’s been planning this conversation for _years_ , "Christ, Niall. Look at us."

Niall doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what he means by that. They've practically exceeded domesticity in the last few months. "Oh."

"Oh." Zayn mocks, leaning forward to place his cold, but pleasantly sweet lips against Niall's. "Is that a yes?"

Niall sets the carton of ice cream down on the coffee table to place a hand on Zayn's cheek, stroking his thumb over the makings of a potential beard. "Absolutely."

\---

Louis is affronted.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he says, too loudly, and making Harry jump in his seat, splashing his drink over the rim of his glass, and pouting, “Heyyy.”

“Say that a little louder, would you, Lou? The people up the block didn’t hear you,” Zayn rolls his eyes, but his hand lands on Niall’s thigh, squeezing, almost nervously.

They’re at Charlie’s, squeezed into a booth, with Louis at the edge of the table, sitting backwards in a chair he’d nicked from one of the free tables. His arms are folded over his chest and he looks like a brat. Like a six year old whose just been told he can’t eat anymore of his Halloween candy.

“Is he going to cry?” Liam asks, diligently wiping up Harry’s spilled drink, “Because you know I’m a sympathetic crier.” He looks like he’s about to start up, but Harry kisses his nose and says, “I don’t think Louis’ kind can produce tears, love.”

“Fuck you, Styles,” Louis scowls, glancing between both sides of the booth and shaking his head, “This is disgusting! How did I end up being friends with two couples?”

“Well, to be fair, that’s not how it started,” Liam says, “You couldn’t have known.”

“Well I’m pretty fucking aware of it now, aren’t I? This isn’t fair. This month is supposed to be about me. _One_ month of every year. It’s all about me. You can have your summers of getting engaged and your autumns of hooking up with your best friends, but winter is mine. Stop trying to make it about you!”

“No one’s trying to make it about us,” Zayn tells him, looking irritated, “Jesus, Lou. We just thought you’d all like to know. Especially Liam, since it pretty much directly affects him.”

“A simple text would’ve been fine, actually. Instead of all of this. Coming here of all places. You told me it was lad’s night.”

“Wait!” Harry gasps, making them all jump, and brings a hand up to his chest as he leans in to whisper, “Is someone here not a lad?”

Liam giggles because he probably feels obligated to, Niall thinks. But he’s otherwise ignored as Louis takes a pull from his beer as angrily as one can.

“See! This is bullshit,” He complains.

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Niall finally speaks, bringing the conversation back, using his free hand, the one that’s not currently resting on Zayn’s lower back, underneath his shirt, to pick up his drink. “You live with your girlfriend.”

“That’s _different_ ,” Louis says, waving a flippant hand, “Obviously.”

“Yeah? How?” Zayn challenges, staring Louis down. Niall feels him tense through his back, it’s quick, barely there, but Niall inches his hand lower, dipping beneath the elastic of his briefs.

“I’ve been in a relationship for years. Five years. With someone I made a commitment and a promise to. You and Niall have only been dating, or whatever the fuck you’ve been doing for barely five months!” Louis nags, “Are you even sure you’re ready to move in together? Do you even know each other?”

The words hit like a record scratch, colliding with Niall like a bullet. Liam and Harry fall silent, staring blankly between Zayn and Louis.

“What’d you say, bro?” Zayn asks, and Louis doesn’t back down, always ready for a fight, even though Niall is 100% sure he has never been in one or this wouldn’t be happening.

Louis smirks a bit before he speaks, “Pop quiz! What’s Niall’s middle name? Does he have any siblings? What’s his dad’s name?”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry snaps, and if Niall hadn’t slipped his hand over the curve of Zayn’s ass and slightly dug his nails in, attempting to ground him, Niall expects Zayn would already have climbed across the table.

Instead, he straightens up in his seat, dragging his own hand further up Niall’s thigh, “S’alright, Haz.” He says, “Hmm. Ok,” he starts, and Niall sees the look in his eye and prepares himself for the worst, “I’ve got a quick question for you, Lou: remember when you had a life and stopped making bitchy comments about mine?”

And Harry laughs that bursting shout of a laugh that always makes him slap a hand over his mouth, eyes widening, and Liam says, “Hey, now,” like a dad trying to stop his kids from fighting at the dinner table.

Niall would snort if Louis didn’t glance between the two of them with a look of betrayal, like they’d both ganged up on him, eyes wounded as if asking _what did I do to deserve this?_

“Um…” Niall says, and clears this throat into the silence, “Has anyone tried the spicy mango mojito?” he tries.

It doesn’t work.

Louis’ chair scratches against the floor when he storms out and only Liam cares enough to call after him, kissing Harry on the side of the head after Harry nods assent to run after him.

Zayn picks up Louis’ forgotten drink and mumbles, “Fucking prick,” before spitefully downing the rest of the beer.

\--

_Lou and El broke up_

Niall reads the text over and over and over until he can actually understand the words through his drunken haze and shakes his head.

“Oh. Oh no. Noooooo,” He catches himself with an extended arm out, hands flat to the wall as he sways over the toilet. He almost drops his phone in the bowl, but it thankfully crashes to the floor instead.

"What's wrong with you?" Zayn appears in the doorway, looking worried, he says, "Is everything all right? Like—” he glances down at Niall's open jeans, his dick still hanging out without pants to cover it.

Niall groans, and turns his back to tuck himself back into his jeans. "Shut up. Dick is fine. Louis is not."

Zayn's face closes off, then, hands coming up to his waist. "What's he whining about now?"

"Not whining. Broken." Niall makes a vague gesture to accompany his words before bending down to pick up his phone to show Zayn the text from Liam. "He's just sad." Niall says, by way of explanation, as Zayn's face softens at the words on the screen, briefly, before the hardness is back.

"Well he has a funny way of showing it. He was an asshole, Niall. Don't—” Zayn blinks at him, "Please don't tell me you want me to apologize! You think acting that way because he got dumped was _ok_?"

"It's not ok, but I get it."

"I don't. You can't just go fucking with other people's lives just because you've had a bad day. It's not right."

“Yeah, but,” Niall shrugs, “It’s Louis,” and hopes Zayn understands.

He doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from agreeing to come along with Niall to Louis’ apartment the next day.

They let themselves in with the key Harry let them borrow because somehow Harry had convinced everyone he knew to allow him free entrance into their homes.

They find Louis lying face down on the couch and Zayn snorts and says, "This is just pathetic,” at the same time Niall asks, "Are you listening to R.E.M.?"

"I'm sad." Louis says into the couch cushion, raising his head and not looking surprised to see them there, "It's on repeat."

Niall makes tssking noises, sounding like his Nan when he was younger and she’d come around and complain about the state of his room and ask whether he’s been eating enough, "You're wallowing."

"I'm dying,” Louis corrects, dramatically, and Niall hears Zayn mutter _you’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

"Never seen you this dramatic." Niall ignores Zayn, letting him shove Louis’ legs off the couch so he can have a seat beside him, "We’re not here to convince you to apologize or anything, just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Actually, an apology would be pretty nice—”

“Zayn—” Niall starts, but Louis interrupts, pulling himself up and folding into himself on the couch.

“No, Neil, he’s right. I was a being a dick. And I’m. Zayn, I’m sorry. Everything I said, I didn’t mean it. It was like.” He looks sheepish, shrugging his shoulders, “Being around you and Niall, and Payno and Harry, watching how the two of you are together. It made me wonder if it’s that easy?”

Zayn stops pretending to scowl and glances at Louis cautiously. Niall knows he’s not going to be the one to ask so he says, “If what’s easy?”

“You know,” Louis says, and Niall really doesn’t, looking at Louis expectantly who sighs, resigned. He looks between them, as if he really just doesn’t want to say, but when he does, staring straight at Zayn when he says, “Being in love,” Niall understands why.

\--

After finals, Niall only having two exams and three papers, Harry opts to throw Louis a birthday party as a last hangout, apology, and a much needed break from classes, before they all separate for over a month.

And by all, he means when the three of them separate from Zayn and Louis.

Christmas with the Horan’s and Payne’s and New Year’s with Harry at his parent's house was planned pre-Zayn and deliberately without Louis and Niall finds himself regretting not having met Zayn sooner. He can't imagine what the conversation would have been like if Niall had invited him back to meet his and Liam's families – what _meeting the parents_ means.

Niall’s not even quite sure he’s ready to spend two weeks warding off questions from his dad and Liam’s parents about the direction of his life and the nature of his relationship with the “rather handsome” and “pretty” boy who is always in his Facebook and Instagram photos. He’s glad that Liam had invited Harry to Christmas this year, so they can finally announce their engagement after six months of keeping it a secret.

Niall had found out about it back in October that they still hadn’t delivered the news to anyone outside of their group of friends, when he and Liam were sat at their kitchen table and Niall was still battling with finding out Perrie existed and had asked Liam if it was possible that two people living and sleeping together could only be that and not actually like _together_ together.

Liam had shrugged, uninterested, and said, “Like fuckbuddies?”

And nothing was solved because Harry chose that moment to walk into the room, carrying two different ties in his hands, “What are we talking about?” He’d asked, and then, “No, sorry, it doesn’t matter. Which one? Come on.”

“What top are you wearing?” Liam had asked, “If it’s the maroon one, wear the black.”

“Niall?”

“The black,” He affirmed, “Where are you going?”

“Dinner with the folks!” Harry said, sarcastically, disappearing in the direction he came from.

Niall was confused, turning to Liam with a questioning eyebrow that made Liam guiltily confess, “We haven’t told my parents that we’re engaged.”

When Niall said, “You _what_?” Liam held his hands up in defense, “I’ve tried! Don’t look at me like that! You know how they get when I’m talking to them. They just start going on about everything!”

“I told him to send a text!” Harry yelled from the bedroom making Niall laugh.

Liam and Harry returned later that night with leftovers from the restaurant along with the news that they may have possibly not told Liam's parents a damn thing.

They hadn't been able to get it out, too worried that his parents might think they were rushing into things, that they were too young, too wrapped up in feelings they probably couldn't understand, desperately wanting them to mean something.

Niall can relate—to the feelings part, at least. Being caught up in the feeling of invincibility from spending days on end with someone who looks at you sometimes like you're the only person in the world, the only thing keeping them afloat, from slipping under.

But however aware Niall is of the all-consuming feelings he has for Zayn, he doesn’t actually know what they mean, and he and Zayn silently decide to not speak about it—especially with the impending hour of their first lengthy separation—just like they never discussed what they actually were. It should be obvious, Niall likes to think, what it meant for the two of them falling into each other constantly, gravitating around each other, blending into one, like it should’ve been obvious the first time they met, what they would inevitably become.

It's somewhat of a general unspoken rule: the two of them don’t discuss Big and Important Things, opting to keep expressing themselves through mouths on each other’s skin.

They definitely don’t talk about the loaded silence that followed Louis’ admission that day on his couch, and they don’t talk about how Zayn kissed Niall right outside Louis’ door when they’d left, how he’d pulled Niall close until their bodies were flush against each other and took him apart right against the wall.

They don't talk.

They just kiss lazily on the balcony of Harry's apartment—in the very same spot where they first met back in May.

The moment they'd arrived, Zayn had led Niall out there, gripping his hand tight, afraid to lose him with the party already well underway, snaking a bottle of wine that was resting forgotten on an end table near the balcony’s doors.

He’d slid the door closed, masking the sound of laughter and cheerful voices, and moved the deck swing in front of the door, turning the lights off so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

He took a long pull from the bottle of wine before edging it into Niall’s grip and licking his lips. Niall could see how they shined under the moonlight and he blinked and suddenly felt a familiar, dark feeling, like he could fall over the railing and hit the ground and nothing, absolutely nothing would make him feel as fucked up as Zayn Malik did.

The feeling combined with Zayn's alluring existence is how they end up with an empty bottle of wine and Niall pressing Zayn hard into the railing as they kissed and kissed and kissed, letting the balcony and the shape of their lips speak mountains for the both of them.

Niall swallows Zayn's whispered words, the “I'll miss you," pressed into his mouth, and Niall crowds against him further, trying to properly work up to a grind, but their layers are too thick for there to be any tangible friction and he says as much aloud.

Zayn makes an impatient noise, glancing down between them, and then up at Niall’s chest. “Take off your coat, you idiot,” He snorts, but unzips it himself, immediately reaching for Niall’s jeans, “You get clueless when you’re drunk.”

“Drunk?” Niall scoffs. “I’m insulted that you think I could get drunk off a bottle of wine that you killed the most of. Amateur.”

Zayn had a hand shoved down the front of Niall’s pants, but he pulls it out quickly, like he’s been bitten, “You really want to insult someone who’s ready and willing to suck your little pencil dick?”

Niall sputters, “ _Zayn_ ,” slapping Zayn’s hands away from his general lower area, “If that’s how it is. I’m sure there are plenty of people in there that would be willing just the same.”

“No, Ni, stop it,” Zayn laughs, wrapping his fingers around Niall’s wrists, “Babe.”

“It’s too late, you’ve ruined the mood and I’m freezing my ass off. Come on, Z, we didn’t even say hello to anyone.”

“Yeah,” Zayn sighs, “All right. Just, like. I need a minute. ‘M a bit wound up.”

Niall wiggles his eyebrows, forgetting he wanted to punish Zayn, and bringing their bodies close together again. “Yeah? Just from a little kissing?”

“Fuck you,” Zayn tries to push him away, “You were…” he waves a hand, “with your hips.”

“Oh?” Niall teases, sliding his leg between Zayn’s thighs, earning him a smack on his unfortunate lack of ass. He jerks into Zayn’s body and feels his face heat up.

Zayn’s eyes widen slightly at the reaction, before getting that mischievous glint in them as he gains the upper hand, “Look how pink you got!”

“Right, okay. See ya—” Niall untangles their limbs and gets about as far as the balcony swing before Zayn’s behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him flush against his chest.

He drags his mouth over the back of Niall’s neck, around to his ear and says, “What else have you been hiding from me?”

It’s just a bit too much, Niall tilting his head back so Zayn can run his lips over the expanse of his neck. And Niall’s not sure what he would’ve let Zayn do to him on that balcony, if he’s honest, as he closes his eyes that if the door hadn’t slid open and Liam voice hadn’t shouted, “Oh for fuck’s sake. Get a room!”

And they do, later that night, after staying at the party long enough to be polite and please an inebriated Louis. Until Zayn gets antsy and pissed off from watching Niall purposefully avoid him, doing shots with tall pretty and leggy girls and dancing with handsy boys who whisper things in his ears that make him flush.

He corners Niall as he's about to tackle Liam for his terrible dancing, winding his finger through the loop of his jeans and yanking him close. Niall squeaks indignantly, falling back into Zayn's chest, and Zayn just rests his hand low on Niall's stomach.

“What are you—“

But Zayn cuts him off, whispering into his ear, “You think you're being funny?”

Niall snorts, managing to pull himself away enough to turn around in Zayn's arms, “I'm fuckin’ hilarious.”

Zayn's clearly unimpressed, reaching up to yank on Niall's short hair. “We're leaving,” he says, firmly.

Louis and Liam are the only ones around, begging them to stay, but Zayn is grabbing Niall's coat and urgently shoving it into his stomach non-discreetly, while his own coat hangs off his shoulder, “Niall's just a bit tired,” he says, even though Niall is smiling and giggling and happy and he doesn't care that they're kind of being obvious as Zayn blindly reaches behind his back to push him toward the door. "We've just--we've got to go. Sorry, babes."

And Louis drunkenly catcalls and Niall’s not even embarrassed, just massively on edge and his skin is on fire.

When Zayn pushes him out into the cold air, Niall says, "Oh my god." And almost trips over his own feet. "Fuck. You know they're never going to let us live this down." He's smiling and Zayn initiates the handholding, but Niall’s the one who pulls him along at a quicker pace.

When they get to the car, Zayn crowds Niall up against the front door, his back almost slamming against the car and he kisses him hard, biting his bottom lip. He says, sure of himself, “You gonna let me fuck you?"

"Yeah," Niall says, pressing their foreheads together before kissing Zayn and opening up the car.

\--

“Fuck, Zayn. Come _on_."

Niall stretches his arms above his head to grip the wooden panels of the headboard, knuckles going pale at the tightness, his arms adjusting into the stretch.

“Let's go, let's do this. I'm all good.”

Niall hooks his ankles around Zayn’s waist, impatient, as Zayn's fingers slip out of him, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Niall's body. Niall uses the opportunity to yank him forward, and Zayn has to catch himself on his elbows to regain his balance, laughing as Niall eagerly lifts his hips up, prompting.

“All right, all right,” He appeases, leaning forward to kiss Niall softly before breaking away with a reprimanding smack to Niall's thigh as he leaned over the side of the bed to grab his pants.

“Malik, I swear to fucking Chr—” Niall warns, a hand coming down to wrap around his own cock, letting his warning fall away when he sees Zayn taking out the condom from his wallet that he'd started carrying around ever since sex started becoming more spontaneous between them, and he relaxes into his grip on himself.

“Happy?” Zayn asks, fumbling open the packet as he watches Niall making lazy stokes on his cock, his bottom lip between his teeth. He nudges Niall's hand away from his dick, making a disappointed noise, “Did I say you could touch yourself?

“Fuck you,” Niall bites out, “Stop messing around.”

"Quit acting out," Zayn counters, “Who is this bad boy, all of a sudden?” He muses, running his hand down Niall's side, over his thigh, before pressing his fingertips into his skin and lifting his thighs up. “What do you want?” he says, licking his lips and sparing a glance up at Niall that has Niall's chest flushing under this gaze.

“Zayn—” Niall starts to shy away, tearing his eyes away from him, “Come on.”

“Come on what?” Zayn urges, and Niall nearly whines, frustrated. ”Hmm? Can't hear you, babe?” Zayn presses, dragging his finger down over Niall's skin, stopping just at his bared hole, teasing, “Can't give you what you want if you don't tell me.”

“Want you,” Niall starts, trying to push down on Zayn's finger, but he takes it away, reaching down to cradle his ankles, and Niall breathes out, “Zayn. Fuck me. Please.”

Zayn grins, pleased, and kisses the sole of Niall's foot. “There we go,” and he climbs on top of Niall's body to kiss him, wet and messy, as if rewarding him. “Gonna spread your legs for me a bit more?”

Niall nods his head and does as he's told, bringing his knees up to his chest, and shamelessly spreading them wide. He's rewarded when Zayn reaches down to guide himself to his hole, dragging the head over Niall's perineum teasingly, before sinking his dick in slowly.

Niall moans obscenely low, "Jesus Christ," pressing Zayn in further by his legs.

Zayn's laugh is breathless, small, into the space between them, "Not quite," and he suddenly sits up, pulling Niall with him and up into his lap, holding him tight by his hips with his arms. "Come on, babe."

Niall chokes on a strangled gasp, folding his legs more comfortably around Zayn's waist. Zayn pulls him by the hair and guides their mouths together and kisses him, slow and sweet, until his breathing slows and he's quiet and pliant. “Good?”

Niall squeezes his eyes shut, bobbing his head uselessly, as he tries to get used to the feeling, the stretch of Zayn filling him up.

Once he's sure he can take it, Niall lifts his hips and sinks down onto Zayn's cock experimentally, wrapping his arms around Zayn's neck to ground himself, letting out a groan when Zayn pressed hot, sloppy kisses to his neck and down over his collarbone, keeping a hand tightly gripped in Niall's hair.

They try to make a rhythm of it, Niall lifting his body off of Zayn's cock so Zayn can slide up into Niall as best as they can, and it's too much, too hot, too close, Niall's breathing heavily, grabbing onto Zayn's back, his nails in his skin like he's trying to make sure he's real, this is real.

“Fuck,” Niall breathes out, and bites his bottom lip as he shoves hard with his palms on Zayn's chest so that his back is flat on the bed and Zayn goes, “ _Babe_ ,” as Niall leans over him, bearing down to properly work up a rhythm to ride Zayn's dick.

Zayn breathes in when Niall sits all the way down in his lap, and Niall can feel him watching, can imagine what he looks like with his mouth dropping open, shiny and wet, his eyes closed as he leans his head back, exposing the expanse of his neck. .

He drags his hand up Niall's body to wrap his hand around his neck, his throat, pressing his fingers in, just enough for Niall to feel like he stops breathing, and he uses his other hand to tighten his grip on Niall's hips, infuriatingly trying to keep a slow pace, trying not to rush the gentle slide out, the careful slide in.

It's not enough, not nearly enough, and Niall pleads, “Please—Zayn”

And he doesn't hesitate. Zayn takes Niall, wrapping a strong arm around his middle, and spins their positions so he's on top again, his dick slides out at the movement, but Niall reaches down to guide it back in almost greedily before Zayn's settling Niall down gently on his back.

Zayn makes Niall grip the headboard again as he fucks slowly into him, one hand clinched in the sheets, the other dangerously close to Niall's dick.

And when Zayn comes first, he reaches between them to bring Niall along with him. Niall doesn't restrain himself any longer and lets out a half shout when Zayn drives himself deep into his body, riding out his orgasm, and when he comes, it's in heavy spurts, dripping down Zayn's hand, and Zayn kisses his jaw as he strokes him through it.

Niall's shaking as he comes down, hand lazily coming up to rest in Zayn's hair. Zayn kisses his over bitten lips and slides out of him, slowly, Niall moaning into Zayn's mouth before Zayn pulls away, sitting up to discard the condom in the waste bin by the nightstand, keeping one hand resting on Niall's thigh.

Niall's watches him, staring bit dazedly, he'll admit, one of his hands in his own hair. He knows he looks ridiculous, but Zayn keeps his eye contact as he slides off the edge of the bed and onto his knees.

Niall follow the movement curiously, hands stalling in threading through his hair. His laugh is nervous, "What are you—Zayn—"

And Zayn takes Niall's legs and yanks him down, Niall squeaking as Zayn bends his legs at the knee, carefully, and guides them over his shoulder, wrapping his hands around Niall's upper thigh to hold him.

"Oh god." Niall whimpers.

Zayn shoots him a wolfish grin, the color of his eyes so fucking deep and pretty, and dips his head down to kiss Niall's inner thigh.

"You think you can get hard for me again?" He trails kisses up Niall's thigh, making him squirm, drags his mouth over his balls.

"Fucking hell," Niall mutters, scrabbling for the bottle of lube he’d pushed out of their way earlier and throwing it at Zayn's head.

Zayn laughs, "Okay. Ow," and Niall says, firmly, "Yes."

Zayn raises an eyebrow at him before burying his head back down, kissing down, down, until he's at Niall's hole. Niall's breath catches when he sticks his tongue in, hesitantly at first, but then he must get a hang on the feel on his tongue because he pulls Niall closer, sinking his tongue in deeper until Niall is making short little noises and Zayn has to keep a hold on him so he'd stop moving so much.

His hand comes up to stroke at his dick again, desperately, willing himself into full hardness again, but it doesn't seem like it takes that much work as Zayn flicks his tongue and Niall cries out, gripping at the sheets and jerking himself faster. He pulls back and kisses Niall's hole before slapping Niall's hand away from his dick for the second time that night.

Niall actually does whimpers at the lost, but soon Zayn replaces his own hand with his mouth and Niall doesn't complain.

\---

“Have you decided where you’re moving?” Harry asks, the day before he's set to leave to spend the days leading up to Christmas with his own family. “Hand me that beanie, would you?”

Niall shrugs, tossing the pale speckled pink beanie beside his legs, having no fucking idea, “No fucking idea.”

Niall and Liam have been renewing 12-month leases for their apartment since freshman year, but they’ve already decided not to renew for their final year because of Liam and Harry’s engagement. Niall’s pretty sure Liam will move in with Harry when their lease is up in January. The problem is finding out where Niall will stay until Zayn can find someone to sublet his room in his and Perrie’s apartment so they can with some miracle find something over break and be moved in by the start of spring semester.

Perrie hadn’t been the least bit surprised when they’d told her together, sitting on the floor and playing Scrabble. Niall had been waiting outside their door with takeaway, trying to remember if Zayn had said the two of them would be home from the studio by eight or nine. He’d only been sitting outside the door fifteen minutes before he heard them climbing the stairs and Zayn grumbling about having to carry virtually all of Perrie’s bags in additions to his own.

Perrie had kissed Niall right on the lips when she saw he’d brought them food and Niall had blushed bright ass red as Zayn said, “Easy!” and Perrie said, “I bet he is!”

Niall felt a twinge of loss somewhere in his chest as Zayn scored a 20 point word and used the triumphant moment to say, "I think I'm gonna move out, Pez."

Perrie had looked between the two of them, the combined hope and apology in Zayn's eyes, the pure guilt and sadness that was undoubtedly in Niall's, before understanding and promptly beginning to squeal.

They both had an armful of her within seconds as she piled into their laps.

"My boys! I'm so happy! I've been hoping for this!" She pulls back and she’s blinking as her makeup starts to get irritated, "Look at me, I've got tears in my eyes."

Niall had been left alone staring at the letters at his disposal as Zayn and Perrie disappeared into the kitchen to chat privately and Niall, overwhelmed by the sudden crushing feeling that he'd miss Perrie, had seriously considered forgetting everything and opting to move in with the two of them instead.

“You know I could help you, with that, Niall. All you'd have to do is ask,” Harry reminds him, pulling him back to the present.

Harry's mother is a real estate agent and she'd helped Harry find the best apartment for himself and Niall had met and fell in love with her plenty of times, so he can't imagine she’d be averse to helping out her son’s best friend.

“I know, Haz. I just—I don't know,” Niall says, because, “there's something about doing shit on your own. ‘M already splitting rent with my dad and government money.”

“It's not on your own, though, is it?”

“You know what I mean, idiot.” Niall lifts himself off the Harry's pillow and throws it at his head, “It just has to be—you know,” Niall shrugs again.

Harry leers at him, “Special? Meaningful? Picked out with your heart and soul?”

“Fuck off,” Niall laughs, but he can feel himself going red like an idiot, “Just want him to like it enough that he'll never think about the fact that he's moving in with my useless self.”

Harry's smile drops off his face as he glares at Niall. “I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.”

Niall almost apologizes before he remembers he doesn't actually care. “I'll consider it,” he tells him. “But I'd like to give it a go on my own first.”

“Aw,” Harry coos, and zips up his suitcase, having to sit on it to get it shut all the way, “Did you know you blush when you think about him?”

“Did you know I fucking hate you?” Niall snaps, “Why’s Liam marrying you, again?”

“Because I'm a delight and I'm good in bed,” Harry grins.

\---

Niall's staying for at least another day before his drive back home, but Zayn has an afternoon flight on a Monday, two weeks before Christmas.

Niall drives him to the airport singing loudly and purposefully off-key to the radio and when Zayn laughs he tries to will himself not to have a mental breakdown.

They really should talk about it. About what they're doing. About the way Zayn looks at him when he's trying to see if he can still beat Louis at a video game when he's lying upside down on the couch, or how Niall has already started to buy things in two without even thinking about it, before they've even moved in together, new toothbrushes, towels, buys Zayn's favorite soap and attempts to cook his favorite food for hi m when he comes home from the studio late, tired, hungry, and either stressed from not making progress or stressed from second guessing his progress. Niall is always there to try and make it better, somehow, the best way that he can.

Zayn kisses him goodbye outside the gate and slides his hand up Niall's shirt and pinches him.

"Bitch." Niall complains, and leans forward to bite, or really graze his teeth over, Zayn's nose.

Zayn giggles and it’s mesmerizing and Niall spares a thought to their public display, would hate to be those who are passing by because they must look absolutely sickening.

"Miss me." Zayn demands as he lifts the bag Niall hands him over shoulder.

"I will." Niall promises. Won't actually be hard, because he already does, "I’ll only think of you."

"You making fun of me? In front of all these people?" Zayn challenges, "I'll go and find me another fake blonde Irishman."

Niall runs his thumb across Zayn's jawline, smirking, "And I'll kick his ass."

"Would you fight for me, Ni?"

"To the death,” he swears.

"Good,” teases Zayn, “because that's likely with those noodle arms of yours."

"I could leave right now and never speak to you again. Just so you know."

"Nah," Zayn smacks a kiss to his lips, then, only lingering for a teasing moment, "You wouldn't dare."

Niall really, really wouldn't.

\--

On the night of December 25, Liam and Harry tell Liam's parents that they're engaged.

Niall is sitting on the floor with his nephew, Theo, showing him how to properly strum the mini guitar he and Liam had bought for him, when Liam clears his throat to gain the attention of the room.

Liam's sisters are sat on the couch nearest to him and they shush the two of them, Niall, the loudest person they know, and a toddler, Ruth moving to pick up Theo and pass him along to his mother because apparently Niall wasn't responsible enough to even try to keep him quiet.

Niall has no time to feel affronted because Liam is rubbing at the back of his neck, cheeks pink, as he begins to speak, “Um. Hi. Thank you. This will be quick, I promise,” He says, “First, I just want to say I'm so happy we're all here for another year together, and I’m happy that the Horan’s keep inviting my crazy family every year for some reason.”

“Don't remember inviting you this, year, actually,” Niall teases, “Like roaches, the lot of you—ahh!” He shouts when Liam throws an ice cube at him from his glass of whisky.

“I'm grateful for all of you except Niall,” Liam continues, “And I'm especially happy and excited that Harry could join us this year.”

Harry looks like he's going to cry, and Niall wants to roll his eyes because honestly nothing’s been said that calls for tears, but Liam continues, “And, well. Speaking of Harry,” He turns to his parents, “We’ve been meaning to tell you for so long—”

“Oh!” Goes good ol’ Karen Payne, in tears far before anything been said.

“We're getting married,” Harry fills in, holding his hand up and switching his engagement ring from his pointer finger to his ring finger, looking down at it with what could only be described as a combination of admiration and relief.

The erupting sound in the living room makes Niall nearly fall over onto the floor, playing it up by holding his ears as Theo watches him and giggles with delight.

\--

On December 31st, Niall gets a weird text message from Zayn that's just an emoji of a man running and the ghost emoji.

He's very drunk so it makes him laugh and he sends the emoji of the two boys holding hands and the banana emoji because “that looks like a dick doesn't it?” He asks Gemma, who looks at him like he's the most disgusting sight she's ever laid eyes on, and shouts at her brother to “get the blonde one out of the kitchen!”

Harry never comes and Niall suspects it has something to do with seeing him and Liam sneak away up the stairs awhile ago, but it doesn't matter because he can make it out on his own, thank you.

The party is full of a bunch of Harry's and Gemma’s high school friends and all of their parents who went to high school with Harry's mother and Niall wonders if that's typical of a party thrown by an upper middle class family in suburbia.

The people aren't terrible, but they're also not great and so Niall occupied himself by drinking and drinking until everything started to get a little more appealing.

As he makes it back into the living room and then past the living room and to the stairs, his phone buzzes again in his hand, and he has to sit down on the steps so he can focus on the words on the screen and not have to worry about remembering how to stand up.

Zayn's text just says _Aha :) x_ and Niall says it out loud and giggles, holding up his phone and turning the front facing camera on himself to send Zayn a picture of him with his lips puckered in an exaggerated kiss. He adds a bow emoji and a pumpkin emoji when his finger accidentally drags across it.

He thinks he nods off because suddenly he's opening his eyes and there's a picture waiting for him from Zayn. When he opens it, he's confused for a moment as he looks at a familiar mailbox, wondering where he'd seen it before.

He sends _??_

And waits for Zayn to text him back. When he does, it's just a frog emoji and a house and Niall doesn't get it and, frustrated, taps at his screen until it dials his number.

“Hey, hi. Hold on,” Zayn answers, and someone in the background says, “He's fucked off somewhere, thank god,” and Niall sits up on the stairs the best he can because that sounded a lot like—

Zayn laughs, and Niall can't imagine the crinkles in his eyes, and says something back before returning to the phone, “Gotta go, babe,” he says, hanging up before Niall could even get a word in.

He's about to call back, angry because Zayn just _hung up on him_ after talking to someone who sounded a lot like Gemma.

He's pulling himself up by the stairs’ banister when he hears someone snort and say, “Oh, babe,” and he almost falls back down.

Thankfully, though, Zayn is there to catch him.

It takes Niall a moment to realize that it's actually Zayn and not a figment of his imagination, but when he does he makes an undignified noise, “Is this real? Are you real? You're not real.”

“No, yeah.” Zayn chuckles, letting Niall wrap his arms around his neck, “Exactly, I'm not real.”

“Why are you here?”

“Oh. All right, I'll just leave then—”

“Like hell, you know what I mean. I'm happy you're here. Kiss me.”

Zayn does as he's told, guiding Niall in by his chin and pressing their lips together softly, making Niall sigh into it.

“Hi,” Niall says, blinking when Zayn pulls back.

“Hi,” Zayn tells him, bringing his hand up to smooth back Niall's hair, “How drunk are you, huh?”

“I'm fucked, if I'm honest.”

“Mm,” Zayn nods, seriously, “I guess I better catch up, then.”

Catching up to Zayn means downing two full mason jars of whiskey and topping if off with one of Harry's mojito’s and a few sips of Liam's tequila be Liam catches him and actually has to cut him off, ushering him and Niall out of the kitchen and out into the backyard to get some air and cool down.

Niall's never been more enamored with Zayn than he is when he'd agrees to dance with Niall even though the music was slow and sounds a lot like James Bay, doing something stupidly endearing with his hips, way off beat.

Liam and Harry are sitting together bundled under a blanket on the porch swing and watching them make fools of themselves and Niall thinks Harry is trying to inconspicuously film them with his phone, but he doesn't care, Harry could send it to everyone they know, in fact, he wants him to: so everyone can see what Zayn does to him, the look in his eyes when Zayn throws his head back and laughs, when he clutches his stomach, when his eyes are sparkling like they've got stars in them.

Niall wants everyone to see how beautiful Zayn is, and how good, how on top of the world, he makes Niall feel.

“Hey, hey,” Zayn's laughter is calming down, as he tries to wave a hand in front of Niall's face, but ends up whacking himself in the nose, and going, “Ow,” and Niall could die right here, right now, and he would die the happiest man on earth.

“You alright?” Niall asks, grabbing Zayn's wrists to hold his steady, “Want me to kiss it better?”

“No,” Zayn frowns, “Yes. Hold up. Wait—I was checking on you. You first.”

“You want to kiss me?” Niall's confused, but game.

Zayn seems to think about it, nodding his head, then, “No, yeah, but you were looking all—” He flaps a hand that might be implying instability, and wrangles his hands out of Niall's grip to thread their fingers together, “Lost you for a minute.”

“I'm here.” Niall promises, “Right here.”

“Good,” Zayn says, leaning forward to whisper in Niall’s ear, “Let's put on a show for the boys, yeah?”

When Niall wakes up the next morning he’s met with the worst pain he's ever felt in his entire life.

It must have been one hell of a show because his whole body explodes the moment he reaches full consciousness and he groans.

“Holy shit.”

Something groans right back and a hand comes up to smack him in the face, “ _No_.”

Niall opens his eyes, then, fully taking in his surroundings, and realizing he's in a bed that's not his own. And that there are a lot more limbs than the four that he could've sworn he had, the last time he checked.

“Shut _up_ , bro. I can hear the wheels turning in your head,” it's Harry's sleep heavy voice, coming from his left, “Go back to sleep.”

“My body's on fire,” Niall complains and the hand on his face comes to rest on his bare chest, patting him as if comforting him. He sees the mandala tattoo just as Zayn's head lies beside it. His eyes are closed so Niall knows that means he's hanging onto remnants of sleep the best he can. He brings a hand up to run his fingers through Zayn's hair, scratching at his scalp, and Zayn sighs, as Niall turns to look at Harry on his other side, one critiquing eye open. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Harry yawns, before closing his eyes, “Now shut up.”

“That's not very nice, Haz,” Liam says, quietly, from the other side of Harry, “Morning, Nialler.”

Niall frowns a little, looking down at himself, then Zayn, then Harry, and Liam, and says, and laughs, “This feels like a wild one night stand.”

“You couldn't pull me if you tried,” Harry quip.

“Hey, I'm a catch,” Niall defends, dragging his hand down to rest between Zayn's shoulder blades.

“Niall is awfully cute,” Liam agrees, rolling over and propping his head on Harry's shoulder to smile over at Niall, “Look at him. That million watt smile.”

Niall makes a face, pretending to be sick. “ _Please_ , Payno. Keep it in your pants.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry scolds, “Don't knock it till you've tried it, Niall.”

Zayn snaps then, raising his head up only slightly to search for a pillow and throw it in the vague direction of where Liam and Harry are lying, but only managing to toss is clear across the room, hitting the wall with a sad thump.

Harry’s responding laugh is more of a snicker, “Think Zayn wants us to be quiet,” and Liam bites the meatiest part of his biceps, and shushes him.

“Should listen to Kermit,” Zayn grumbles, burrowing his head back into Niall’s chest.

When Harry says, “Is he calling me a _frog_?” and begins to pout, Niall can’t control the cackle that bursts from his mouth.

\--

“Where’s your head, Zayn Malik?”

Niall burrows into his coat, having momentary difficulties trying to find its pockets before he shoves his hands deep into the fabric, searching for warmth.

They’re in the backyard again, giving Harry and Liam space to talk to Anne after apparently dropping the news of their engagement right at midnight—but Niall can barely remember jack shit from the previous night, only Zayn showing up, dancing in the hibernated garden, kissing Zayn with Zayn’s hand down his pants, and the vague image of leaning over Zayn’s lap and failing to suck his dick as they sat in the only secluded corner the lights from back porch couldn’t exactly reach. He doesn’t even remember midnight, but he assumes it was a pretty damn good one, considering.

Zayn is nursing a cup of coffee in his hands, one that was originally Anne’s, but she had taken one glance at Zayn as he dragged his feet into the kitchen, smiled, “Good morning, love, you must be Zayn. Coffee?” and handed it right over.

“Missed you, you know,” he answers, lifting his shoulders like it’s no big deal.

“Is that why you probably broke fifteen different traffic laws to get here?”

“I ran one stop sign, like,” Zayn grins around his mug, and Niall has to look away or he’ll start to cry and things will just get embarrassing.

“I was gonna call you, last night. FaceTime. Kiss the screen a bit, get a bit nasty, if you were lucky,” Niall admits, looking down at his boots, using one foot to wipe at a scuff on the other, but only making it worse, “You one-upped me, but I got the real thing, though, didn’t I?”

“Lucky you,” Zayn tells him, “Been spoiling you since I met you, feels like.”

“I don’t mind,” Niall chances a glance up at him, just as quickly looking back down when he realizes Zayn is watching him carefully, tongue coming out to lick at his lips dry from the cold.

“Yeah?”

They don’t do this.

They don’t do this, but Niall wants to. He really, really wants to. Wants to pour his heart out, wants to tell Zayn how much this kills him, being with him, being without him, but not with his mouth against his collarbones, not with his tongue tracing lines down to his navel, no. With words. Actual, well-thought out, heady words, strewn together in sentences that convey everything that’s been steadily building up and up, filling his mind, his chest to the point where he feels heavy, dizzy with the thought of _zaynzaynzayn._

“Yeah,” Niall responds softly, and then, because he can’t help fucking with Zayn just a little bit to veer this conversation somewhere else that is less serious fast, says, “But—“ He raises his head, “I need to tell you something.”

The look on Zayn’s face is exactly what Niall was aiming for, as he lowers his mug, raises an eyebrow, and nods his head. “What is it?”

Niall plays it up, exhaling with a puff of his cheeks and rubbing his palms on his thighs before he stands up and shakes his hands out, “’M just going out of my mind, Zayn.”

Zayn sets his mug down on the porch’s enclosed railing, and steps forward, pulling Niall in by the zipper of his coat, “You all right?”

“It’s fine, it’s just—” Niall sighs, raising his hand to tilt Zayn’s head up by his chin, “I really, really, really,” he pauses to take in Zayn’s obvious increasing anxiety, and begins to smile as he sings, “— _really, really, really like you_?”

Zayn’s face falls as he pushes Niall away from him, saying, “I thought you were about to tell me to fuck off, you idiot!”

Niall laugh, falling over onto his back on the swing, clutching his stomach with a mixture of satisfaction, joy and pain.

"I'm sorry. It was just too easy. Your face, babe."

"You're gonna pay for that." Zayn warns.

"Ooh," Niall sits up, spreading his legs to pull Zayn into him at the base of his thigh, and Zayn must not be that upset as he lets himself be handled, "What are you gonna do, Z? Spank me? Need me to bend over?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Zayn says, running his cold hands up Niall's neck, his jaw, his cheek, up to his hair where he sinks his fingers in and yanks his head back, making Niall wince, but not quite hiss like he knows Zayn was aiming for, "Ought to make you strip down. Get you on your knees. Right here. Right where anyone could walk out." Zayn muses, "Give you a nice slap, get you all red."

Niall feels himself blush, going red under the attention, but doesn't back down, because that'd be letting Zayn win. "Is that it?" He asks, pulling against Zayn's grip on his hair until Zayn relents and moves his hand away. Before he can take it away completely, though, Niall grabs his wrist, raising Zayn's hand back up to his face and smirking, "Tell me what you'd do to me." He begs, running his fingers slowly over Zayn's, stroking the back of his hand and then pulling his hand forward to kiss the pads of his fingertips. Zayn watches him, raising a curious eyebrow. "Would you want me to scream? Or would you want me to be quiet? Put your hand over my mouth so no one can hear me?" Niall lifts Zayn's hand closer to his mouth, licking his lips intentionally, "Zayn," and taking two of Zayn's fingers in his mouth the same way he's come to taking in Zayn's dick.

Zayn makes a faint noise and then there's a hand in Niall's hair, not pulling this time, but stroking, and Niall sighs into it, running his tongue on the underside of Zayn's fingers—

"Seriously?" Comes Harry's voice, and Niall startles, Zayn's fingers slipping too quickly further into his mouth and making him choke, and Zayn yanks them away, all in quick succession.

They both look up at a horrified and impressed Harry with one hand on hips, and another holding a half peeled banana. "With my family two steps away?"

"Sorry, Haz." Zayn is grinning, unapologetically, turning around to reclaim his forgotten coffee mug.

"Won't happen again," Niall lies, because he's already thinking about where they can sneak off to in the house where they won't be caught or overheard.

\--

Zayn apparently did not tell his family he was leaving until he was on the road and halfway to Harry's house, so they summon him back home on the second of January and Niall, Liam, and Harry return to Niall and Liam's apartment to finally start packing.

Niall kisses Zayn goodbye again, says, "Miss me," to which Zayn responds, "Always," and Niall pretends he's ok with watching his back as he leaves to put too much space between them one more time. He won’t be back until after his birthday, spending it every other year with them since sophomore year and the year unluckily marked his extended stay at home.

Back home, Niall's bed smells like Zayn and it's unfortunate, as he lies on top of his sheets and assesses his room in order to see where the best place to start might be.

Liam's playing music from the kitchen, tackling their shared spaces first and agreeing to let Harry help decide what stays and what goes.

Harry had his eyes on their NutriBullet the moment Niall bought it and used it once, so Niall figures that's gone in one of Liam's boxes already.

He's tired, exhausted from the flight, and he misses Zayn and feels ridiculous about it. He's tried to keep his phone far away from himself, but somehow it's ended up back in his eyesight, the green of the case visible from where he's at least turned the screen face down to prevent the anxious staring at whether the notifications popping up were from who they wanted them to be.

Liam laughs from the kitchen at the same time Niall decides he could probably start by packing up the CDs, DVDs, and books on his bookshelf that he never touches because the internet and downloading exists.

It's as he's distractedly thumbing through his copy of The Autobiography of Red and wondering when he started owning it, maybe it was a gift from Harry, when it hits him.

Hits him hard.

"What the fuck," he says, as the words his eyes scan over narrate his life _and there it was one of those moments that is the opposite of blindness_ and he lets the book fall out of his hands, feeling burned.

He gets to his feet and leaves his room, running into the kitchen and seeing Liam and Harry startle at his entrance, caught with Harry on his back on the kitchen table, Liam bent over him but their clothes thankfully still on.

"Niall? Are you ok? What's happening?" Liam looks worried, pulling away from Harry and meeting Niall halfway to grab him by the wrists and it's not until he feels Liam's grip that he realizes he's shaking.

"I'm. I'm fine, it's just." He looks at Harry who's off the table and coming to his side, then up and into Liam's confused face, and says, "I think I'm in love with Zayn."

And Niall doesn't expect the sudden silence and then the subsequent burst of laughter that follows.

"Oh my god. Bro." Harry says, wiping a hand down his face. "I almost had a heart attack."

"What's so funny?" Niall tears himself out from Liam's grip, feeling offended. This was rather serious. "I'm being serious."

"And that's what's so funny." Liam explains, "Where've you been for the last six months?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means of course you're in love," Harry tells him, "and you're an idiot."

\--

Niall doesn't know how to act normally around someone he's in love with. He's never been in love before, but he knows there's probably a certain way one is supposed to behave.

Does he tell him? Does Zayn know? Is it obvious? Can people tell when they're together?

He's finding it hard to breathe everytime he thinks about it—his heart racing, feeling like it’s going to beat out of his chest, his hands sweaty, like he’s having an anxiety attack.

But it’s whatever.

If there's one thing he's learned from being friends with someone like Louis it's how to internalize shit until everything gets so built up he's seconds away from exploding with it.

It is a bit strange, though, that no matter what his anxiety keeps trying to convince him, things are otherwise no different. At least not while he's only able to be in contact with a non-physical Zayn. If Niall could touch him, look into his eyes, and see his pulse stopping smile, he thinks it may be a different story.

But it’s the same skip in his heartbeat when he sees Zayn's name pop up on his screen, the same cheesy grin on his face when he talks to Zayn before he goes to sleep that night about his sisters teasing him for the picture of them on his lock screen, his dad giving him a talk about what he'll be doing after graduation, his mother trying to subtly get Zayn to bring Niall home sometime.

Niall still feels this blinding and head spinning admiration and fondness, but it’s intensified now that he understands what it is--that it's not just liking Zayn, it's not loving him as a person who's become a huge part of his life, it's being intensely, irrationally, incredibly in love with him.

“You know you can stay with me, yeah?” Zayn’s telling him, in an obvious lull in the conversation after Niall has updated him on his packing progress. “With me and Pez?”

Niall bends his arm back, setting his head on top of his hand to prop himself up. He stares at the Neymar poster hung on the wall straight across from his bed, beside his bulletin board—the one that Zayn teased him for when he first saw it, asking him if he kissed it every night before he went to bed, if he’d ever gotten off to it, once? More than once?

_What would you do if you had a poster of me? Would you kiss, me, Niall?_

“Yeah?” Niall says, softly, letting his eyes fall shut with a strained sigh, “Got room for me?”

“Mmm,” Zayn ruminates, “Leigh says the couch sleeps pretty well.”

Niall wishes Zayn wouldn’t make him smile so easily, “You’re the worst.”

“I’m terrible,” Zayn agrees, “Are you sure you want to live with me?”

Niall shrugs, knowing Zayn can’t see him, “This test run’ll be good, I think. But I mean—if I absolutely _have_ to.”

He wants to dive into Zayn’s laugh, wants it to blanket over him, smother him, until he’s drowning in it, suffocated by it.

“Miss you. So much,” Zayn admits, even though it’s barely been three days since he last saw him.

“Miss you, all the time. Always.” Even when you’re here, he doesn’t say, _I love you so much I can’t believe I couldn’t see it_.

“I want to tell you something, but you’ll laugh at me,” Zayn’s voice sounds lower, like he’s afraid someone will hear him. And they might, Niall doesn’t know how thin the walls are in his parents’ house.

“Never.” Niall assures, “Go on, no secrets.”

“I stole your shirt,” Zayn says, “Been wearing it all day, can’t take it off.”

“Which one?” Something warm floods Niall’s chest and he turns onto his side, grabbing his pillow and covering his face with it.

“The Eagles one. You never wear it anymore. Thought you wouldn’t miss it.” Zayn pauses, then, “D’you want it back?”

“No, no. You keep it. I like that you stole it.” Niall squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the phone closer to his ear, “What—” He tries, but it comes out wrong, too loud, and he clears his throat and goes again, “What else are you wearing?”

Zayn groans, “ _No_ , don’t do this to me. Not here, Niall, the walls are paper thin.”

“We can be quiet.” Niall suggests, a hand already resting low on his stomach, waiting, “C’mon. Miss you so much. Miss that pretty mouth of yours.”

“That all I am to you. Just a pretty mouth?”

“Pretty dick, too.” Niall smiles, “ _Zayn_.”

“Go to sleep, Niall.”

“Could sleep better if you got me off.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Zayn says, and Niall thinks his voice gets even lower when he bargains, “but if you go to sleep, now, I’ll let you fuck me when I get back. Anyway you like.”

Niall freezes, taking the pillow off of his head to make sure he’d heard right. “You what?”

“Goodnight, babe,” Zayn’s voice is firm as he ends the call, leaving Niall staring blankly down at the screen of his phone.

\--

Niall is sitting on the couch in Zayn and Perrie’s apartment with a boxed cake sat on the coffee table that he and Perrie spent eons deliberating over and scanning through the apartment listings Anne emailed him earlier that week.

Perrie texted a little over fifteen minutes ago that they were on their way from the airport saying _our love is in a mood : (_

He’d been forced into staying behind as he had an appointment to view an apartment a good ways away from campus and afterwards, the cake needed to be picked up, so he figured he’d take care of it all in one go while Perrie met Zayn at the airport. But the appointment had been shorter than he thought it would be when he realized the place was definitely not the one and the cake was only a two minute wait, and it was too late to do the twenty minute drive to the airport by the time he got back to their apartment.

So now he’s worrying his nails down biting them – afraid that he’d fail at finding them an apartment, worried that Zayn would think he was as failure, that he’d seem like a mooch if he continued to live with them rent free.

He worries all the way up until there’s the sound of a key turning in the door and Perrie and Zayn come in, Niall watching Perrie lug Zayn’s suitcase into the apartment before he looks up and sees Zayn – head shaved and beard grown since he last saw him – taking off his coat.

He looks tired, but when he lifts his head and sees Niall he smiles, and Niall realizes he’s missed that smile, missed looking at his face every moment he can, missed touching him, missed kissing him. It takes him a moment to remember that he can do that now. Zayn’s here and he doesn’t have to imagine what it’s like to brush the pad of his thumb over his eyebrow as they’re lying sleepily next to each other in the morning, doesn’t have to imagine if Zayn’ll lick his lips when he sits on the couch to draw, if he’ll get that little frown between his eyebrows when he messes up when he’s sketching with ink.

“Oh give me break,” Perrie says, teasingly, when she realizes the two of them are staring at each other, heads in another place, forgetting they don’t have to be anymore, “As if you hadn’t seen each other in years. It’s been barely two weeks.”

Zayn breaks first, pulling off his coat the rest of the way, and relieving Perrie of his other bag that she’d thrown over her head in a cross body fashion, “Don’t worry, Pez. I missed you, too.”

“I know you did.” She accepts the kiss on the cheek Zayn gives her, before rubbing Zayn’s head and saying, “But you’ve been demoted. Niall and I have had quite the laughs these past few days, haven’t we, Ni?”

“Yeah, like. We didn’t want to break it to you this way, Zayn, but—” Niall says, halting for dramatic pause. “Perrie and I are getting married. The wedding’s in February in the Cayman Islands.”

Perrie nods, walking over to join Niall on the couch, sitting on his lap as he wraps his arms around her waist. “The theme is white and eggshell blue. Niall’s wearing a white suit and a blue tie. We were hoping you’d be his best man?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, kicking off his shoes, but Niall can see the amusement in his eyes so he’s not exactly fooling anyone, “Funny thing is, you look cute sitting like that.”

“Do we not look cute normally?” Perrie folds her arms over her chest, faux offended.

“You know you’re cute, hush, Pez. Don’t move, yeah?” Zayn pats his pockets a few times, before he realizes his phone is in the pocket of his jacket. “Give me a smile.”

Without even thinking about it, Niall and Perrie end up giving the camera the finger and Zayn grumps about it, but when they realize they’d both done it, Perrie falls back into Niall as they laugh together, and Zayn gets his shot.

\--

"What'd you do to your hair?" Niall seems small and rather insignificant under the intensity of Zayn's looming and breathtaking gaze. But he likes it. Not being insignificant, but the suppression and leveling of his mind that comes along with it.

"My sister shaved it." Zayn says, and it doesn't look like it was out of coercion or a lost bet, or anything as frivolous as that, and he looks proud, relaxed, happy. "Needed a bit of a change, you know?"

Niall doesn't, but he nods his head anyway, because this isn't about him. "Yeah," he says, raising a hand to run it over Zayn's head, pulling him close by the back of his neck and pressing their lips together. They breathe in tandem, exhaling at the same time. When they pull apart, they stay close, Niall's nose close to rubbing against Zayn's. "I like it. I mean it doesn't matter what I think, but," He slides his hand over Zayn's hip, slipping under the elastic of his briefs and resting on the curve of his ass, his favorite place, Zayn instinctively leaning into the touch, letting himself relax into it. "I really like it."

Zayn closes his eyes, leans his forehead against Niall's as best as he can. "I like that you like it. I like you. Like being with you." His voice is getting softer and Niall knows he's going to fall asleep soon, knows he's probably tired from the flight, from being around his family, they're a handful, but he enjoys it, loves it, couldn't imagine being without it.

"I like you," Niall nearly whispers. "You make me happier than I've ever felt in my life and that scares the shit outta me."

For a moment, he thinks Zayn doesn’t hear it and it’s excruciating, the waiting with bated breath. But Zayn leans back, then, and Niall's met with that intensity again, the look in his eyes that makes Niall want to rip his own heart out and hand it to him, shove it in his hands and _say take it it's yours now you can do whatever you want with it_

"Was thinking earlier. On the plane." Zayn starts, eyes flicking away, down to Niall's bare chest, "'Bout us."

Niall swallows, sliding his hand over Zayn's skin, trailing up his back. "Good things?"

"The best." Zayn moves closer, seeking out the warmth of Niall's body, letting Niall hold him. "We're good together, you and me."

"You think so, huh?" Niall goes for teasing, trying to break the intensity of this conversation before he says something stupid and reckless and actually starts to carve out his own heart.

But Zayn isn't having it, lifting his eyes back up to Niall's. "Without a doubt." He says, "You make me feel like I'm losing my fucking mind."

Niall's heart stops, he's sure if it, but it's just for a second. He had to train himself to use his lungs, remember that he can actually breathe, to inhale and exhale through his nose. "Zayn," he says, nervous, though his mind is screaming _holy shit_.

Zayn just reaches out to tilt Niall's head by the chin so he won't go anywhere, inching closer, eyes flicking between Niall's gaze and his lips, "Feels like I've been waiting for you. Found you and I didn't even know I was looking."

"Like fate, yeah?" Niall is surprised he's able to stay conscious, let alone smile.

"Just like fate," Zayn nods, running his thumb across Niall's bottom lip, "I didn't believe it, then. Back when you tried to tell me. Was out of my head then for you. Thought you were having me on."

"I'd never." Niall promises, then, realizing what Zayn just said, he backs all the way up. "You liked me back then?"

"Yeah," and Niall doesn't really expect it when Zayn blinks slowly, those long and pretty eyelashes falling nearly on his cheekbones, and says, "I've loved you for a long time, Niall."

And this time Niall curses out loud, " _Fuck_ me," and brings their bodies closer with a hand on Zayn's back. "Malik, I fucking swear if you don't mean that, I'm going to kick your bony little ass. Are you serious?"

Zayn's smile is slow, tired, but once it's there, it's fucking incredible. "I love you so much I feel like I can drown in it."

Niall's heart is beating so fast, and he needs to slow down, needs to take this in, but he's at one hundred and he's talking before he can stop himself, "Zayn, I feel like I've been in love with you my whole life and that's sounds fuckin' cheesy, but I honestly don't care, and I think I'm going to cry soon and when I do please pretend that you never saw it--"

“Niall?” Zayn interrupts, running his hand over Niall's jaw, and Niall stops talking, stops breathing, stops existing to hear Zayn speak, “I'm gonna kiss you, now, if that's all right."

Niall's like miles, eons beyond there already, licking his bottom lip, and nodding his head. "Yeah." He doesn't have enough time to be embarrassed by how breathless just one word sounded before Zayn is pressing his lips against his and Niall just. He won't get used to this.

He won't ever get used to this.

\--

Zayn has always treated his own body like an open canvas, allowing his skin to be artfully inked anywhere it can fit: each time he gets a tattoo stands as presentation and display so the whole world can see.

But with Niall—he treats Niall's body as his own masterpiece, a piece of art whose beauty only he is able to see, sometimes to recreate even, to pick apart inch by inch, dissecting the contours of his entire body: the carefully placed dips, the soft skin of his upper thigh. He likes to paint Niall's pale skin with his tongue, trace circles around his nipples, draw stripes near his navel, press his mouth just below his stomach and line triangles.

He especially likes to spread his legs, use his tongue to fill him up, to flood him with shapes, to dive in deeper until Niall can do nothing but cry out, a half sob caught in his throat as Zayn pulls him closer, tightening his grip on the thighs that lay over his shoulder.

\--

The week before classes start up again in late January, they find a place with an upstairs studio—a small two bedroom house for rent that's close enough to campus for them to walk with some time, but far away enough that they could get away with driving, especially in the freezing cold.

Niall had been feeling dejected with apartment searching, getting a bit too comfortable in Zayn and Perrie's apartment, wrapped up in their life, adjusting to living with another pair as sometimes it felt that way living with Liam—Harry being around more often than not.

Zayn told him to stop trying so hard, asking for the millionth time why he couldn't help him _. Because I need to do this for you_ , he doesn't say, because he doesn't know why it's so important. It's like the feeling of having something to prove. Of wanting to impress Zayn, wanting to make him remember why he likes Niall. No. Why he loves him. Why they were in love. So Niall had to do this himself.

And that’s the mentality he held that led him to finding the house with the for rent sign on his way from his advising appointment to fill out a grad plan. He was thinking about credits and how he’d be finished with his major’s requirements by the first semester of his final year, but he couldn’t do anything as freeing as graduate early because he still had general education requirements to fulfill. He would be going to school part time his final semester while Zayn would already be graduated – possibly in graduate school like Niall has been trying to convince him into not backing out of.

 _Maybe I’ll take a gap year_ , he’d brought up just the other night, a remnant from an earlier discussion from that day. He’d been in the middle of cooking dinner for the two of them, Perrie disappearing out the door with Jesy and Leigh, on their way to watch Jade’s rehearsal for her play that Niall and Zayn had opted out when they were invited.

Niall had shot Zayn down without even letting him explain why, saying he was going, end of, knowing damn well what his reasons were. It wasn’t until later that night when Zayn crawled into bed, freshly showered, that Niall actually confronted him about it.

_Please don’t make decisions like that thinking about me. It’s not fair to you._

Zayn had only laughed and slid his had beneath the sheets to find Niall’s hand and link their fingers together _. S’kinda too late for that._

He ended up thinking too hard about the sure and promising look in Zayn’s eyes to the point where he forgot that the usual road they took leading back to Perrie and Zayn’s apartment was closed. He had to turn around and head back through a residential neighborhood and that’s when he saw the for rent sign—on the third house from the corner.

It was small and painted a light blue with a white trim and a red door and it looked like it was picked right out of the Southern U.S. in the 1950s. It even had a swing hanging from the porch. And, well. If Niall hated it, he wouldn’t have stopped right outside and turned off the car. He wouldn’t have taken pictures of it – of the front and from the side, but the backyard was fenced off. He sent the pictures to Anne along with the address and as he got back in the car, he felt giddy and hopeful.

\--

Niall keeps the news to himself – well at least from Zayn because he shows Perrie the pictures the moment he comes back home and with the address they find it listed online and look through the pictures, Perrie says, “Oh, it’s lovely!” with a dreamily quality to her voice – until the next day when Anne sends him a text as he’s sat on the couch, aimlessly fucking around on the internet: _morning love I’ve just spoken to the property manager. His name is Michael and he’ll be glad to give you a look this afternoon!_

She relays that she passed his number on to Michael and they could meet him at the address at noon.

It’s just past eleven and Zayn’s still asleep and usually Niall would dread going to try and wake him up, but the situation seems to call for it, although he wishes it would’ve arose at literally any other time.

Zayn’s lying on his back with one arm behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, the sheets barely covering his waist, proof of a fitful sleep. He must’ve woken up and gone back to sleep because his shirt is off and he definitely had one on when Niall got out of bed that morning. It’ll probably be harder to wake him up if his sleep’s already been disturbed.

“Zayn, hey,” Niall tries softly, lifting the blanket off of Zayn, peeling it back until a majority of his legs are showing, and climbing in beside him, “Hey, it’s time to wake up. Please?”

Zayn makes a disgruntled noise that’s clearly a no, and he tries to turn over onto his side, away from Niall, but Niall grabs his arm quickly to keep him flat on his back. “No. Come on, Z. I have a surprise for you.”

Zayn snorts and moves to curl into Niall’s chest, and Niall rolls his eyes, “I’m not talking about my dick. A real one. One that you have to get up to see, Zayn. _Zayn_.” Niall says, placing both hands on Zayn’s cheeks and pulling him forward to smack a kiss to his forehead. “I may have found us a house.”

Zayn blinks one eye open just enough to be able to give Niall a scrutinizing stare, trying to see if he was telling the truth or not. “A house?” He asks, his voice heavy with sleep, and when Niall only smiles as sweet as he can, which is pretty damn sweet, it seems to be good enough for Zayn to open both of his eyes and prop himself up on his elbow.

“Do you wanna see it?” Niall grins, but tries not to do it too wide – Zayn’s told him looking at it is like staring into the sun and wanting to get burned, says it’s magnetic, blinding. But he does it sometimes on purpose to get what he wants.

He knows it works when Zayn blinks at him, and then falls back onto his back with a tired and relenting groan, “’Course I want to see it.”

\--

Michael is already there to greet them and let them inside.

He looks like a car salesman and it throws Niall off a bit as he chats with them about the age of the house and how many bedroom’s it has and other things that Niall already knows from reading it with Perrie. He steps back from the two under the impression of letting Zayn listen to the guy’s spiel and answer any questions, but it’s really just to watch Zayn and carefully observe his reactions.

He’d been fond of the color, saying _it’s just like you and Pez’ wedding_ , and thought it was fitting, a way to keep Perrie with them somehow, even if it was a passing and mediocre joke.

Now Niall can see the light in Zayn’s eyes, the plotting already in his mind. He stares at the living room’s concave windows for a beat too long and Niall knows he’s already thought of what he’ll do with them.

When Michael disappears into the kitchen to wait and give them time to view the house on their own, Zayn scrubs a hand down his face, and then turns to Niall.

“This is so amazing, Niall.”

Niall smiles, warmth flooding in his chest as Zayn looks at him with something akin to disbelief, "But wait until you see the best part." He says, and laces their fingers together to lead him down the hall to where he knows the second bedroom is—the bedroom Niall and Perrie decided would be perfect for a studio.

Zayn stands in the center, dazed, his hands gripping the strap of his shoulder bag. "Ni—"

"It was Perrie’s idea," Niall says, quickly, because a majority of it had been, as they were looking through the pictures online, she’d been envisioning the placement of furniture, even taking out her one of her sketchbooks and drawing a rough outline, and he doesn’t want to take the credit for something he had but a minimal part in.

"I don't care.” Zayn tells him anyway, then, when Niall quirks an eyebrow at him, he backtracks. “I mean. I _do_ care, it’s just. Fuck. You’re the one here showing it to me and it's perfect."

"You're perfect." Niall prods Zayn's stomach with his knuckle, his thumb grazing over the fabric of his t-shirt. It might actually be his, now that he thinks about it. Zayn’s never been a fan of The Rolling Stones, but everything they have is blending together. Niall doesn’t care whose it was originally—now it’s theirs. "What d'you say, Malik?" he asks, "Are we ready for this?"

And Niall knows Zayn likes parallels, feeds off of them, especially if they’re calling on fond memories. Memories of beginnings, of all the stuff in the middle, and then back to new beginnings.

“Yes,” Zayn nearly sighs the word, heavy with the increasing prospect of euphoria lingering in his voice, he says, "Absolutely."

\--

They move in two weeks later when they finally receive the keys and Zayn catches Niall tearing up on the drive from meeting Michael back to what’s no longer Perrie and Zayn’s, but soon to be Perrie and Jesy’s.

“Are you _crying_?” Zayn asks, astonishment in his voice, and Niall gives him the finger, but still admits, “Yeah.”

“Happy tears?”

Niall runs a hand under his nose, then wipes his hand on his jeans, ignoring Zayn’s disgusted look. “So happy.”

Harry and Liam and Louis and Perrie all sign up to help them move on a Saturday, having no time to move in during the weeks with classes started.

Zayn has a busy final semester ahead of him, is already coming from classes tired and overwhelmed. His capstone is already demanding, having him glued to his little corner in the studio on campus, and coming back late and burning out from stress for the entire second week. Niall is glad that Zayn can finally have his own space to lock himself away in and focus on his thesis design, but he isn’t naive and hopeful enough to believe it’d keep Zayn away from late nights on campus turned difficult early mornings trying to make it to his 9am advanced illustration class.

He looks tired on the day of their move-in, but he seems happy, in a hoodie with his newly colored hair. He’s been letting Perrie dye it whenever he feels like it, it was green before, orange, and now purple. Niall loves it, loves how happy it makes him, just to change something, be in control of something.

The boys hadn’t seen them since the first week of classes – Niall and Zayn having a short lunch with Liam and Harry between courses before they had to split up again and Niall realizes it was easier to see them every single day when he lived with Liam. Harry reacts with joy to Zayn’s hair and the house and hugs them for a long time before he’s even in the doorway.

When Perrie comes she brings Jesy and Harry immediately enlists Jesy to help him and Zayn in unpacking the few boxes in the kitchen. Louis shows up late and is immediately useless, distracting Perrie with a box of Zayn’s things – there’s an Iron Man mask in one box which Louis insists is absolutely necessary for him to put on and a Batman mask underneath it that Perrie dons and they run around the house making what sounds suspiciously like lightsaber noises and Niall has to stop Zayn from commenting on the inaccuracy.

When most of the boxes are unpacked or at least lying open with tape ripped off under the illusion of being unpacked, Niall is the first to call it quits, for one because he’s hungry and he’s craving pizza, but the others had gotten useless, sat or standing around snooping through their things.

Harry orders the pizza after losing a classic game of nose goes and when it comes, they sit spread out in the living room, thankfully having the furniture from Niall and Liam’s old apartment. They catch up with each other’s lives – on what they missed out on in Louis’ life, which isn’t much, apparently, how Perrie’s possibly going to cope without Niall and Zayn around, but the conversation inevitably comes around to Liam and Harry and their engagement.

"How will it work?" Louis asks, spread on his back, propped up on his elbows.

"What d'you mean?"

"Like—is Harold gonna be Harry Payne? Are you Liam Styles?"

"Huh." Liam says, and when he glances at Harry, he’s picking at his third slice of pizza, taking off the meat and, right, Niall forgets he’s pretending to be vegan this month. "I think maybe we could just tag each other’s names at the end?"

That gets Harry’s attention, and he looks up, and says, aghast, "What about our children, Liam? Now what would happen to them?"

Liam leans over to poke at Harry's stomach, teasing, "Children, eh? Little baby Harry's running around."

"And baby Liam's." Harry tells him, “We’ll have an army.”

Perrie sounds rightfully alarmed when she interrupts, turning away from her side conversation with Zayn and Jesy, “An _army_ of Styles kids running around?”

“That’ll be a fucking nightmare,” Niall agrees, shrugging through his bluntness, and repositioning himself in order to lie between Zayn’s legs now that he’s got his attention. Zayn smiles at him, leans down, and they meet half way for a kiss.

“Excuse me,” Harry says, “Am I not a delight?”

Zayn snorts, pulling away from Niall to level Harry with a look, “You’re something.”

“The Payne-Styles’,” Louis tries, “The Styles-Payne’s.”

Harry’s toying with the ring around his finger, bottom lip between his teeth, contemplating. There’s an intensity in his eyes, Niall can tell. “Or—” he intones, “Maybe just the Payne’s?”

There’s a loaded pause, the lot of them falling silent, Louis’ repetition of the hyphenated last names dropping off. They watch Liam’s movement as he freezes, snaps out of it, turns to face Harry on the couch and stares at him, considering Harry's face, searching for the sincerity, until he eventually just frowns and says, “What?”

"I want to take your name." Harry tells him, tone definite. He looks nervous and it’s hard to watch, almost—the conversation that probably shouldn’t be held in front of five other people.

"What—okay. What makes you want that?" Liam asks, but at Harry’s slight recoil, he grabs his hand, "No, hold on a second. I'm not trying to reject you, I just—Harry Styles? Why would you want to give that up?”

Harry looks putout, like he’s just been disciplined. "Maybe I don't want it." He says, defiantly, "Styles reminds me of who I was before I met you, Liam. And I don't much like who he was to be honest. And I—” He stops, glancing out at the rest of them, sat still, silent, watching them, as if forgetting they were there. He smiles at them a little, before he links his and Liam’s fingers together and says, confidently, “I want to be yours. Completely."

“Well, shit, Payno,” Louis says into the silence, “You can’t say no to that.”

And he doesn’t.

When they’ve more than overstayed their welcome, romantic scene and all, the five of them decide to leave.

Zayn bids Perrie farewell with a kiss to her cheek and a promise to talk to her tomorrow, if not later, and Niall hugs Jesy who promises to take them out one of these days.

After the girls are gone, they clean up and make makeshift trash cans because they haven't got any trash bags and Louis leaves first, hugging Liam and then Harry and flipping off Niall and Zayn, cursing their _love nest_ , but promising, “I’ll be back tomorrow,” to help them put together IKEA furniture.

When it’s Liam and Harry’s turn to leave, Liam puts his hand on Niall’s neck like he always used to when they were growing up, from high school and for all their years of college, all fond and assuring. “You’ll be okay?”

Niall gets a bit of déjà vu, as he watches Zayn and Harry embrace over Liam’s shoulder, Zayn saying something in Harry’s ear that makes Harry smile that almost bashful smile that makes his eyes shine and his dimples more prominent than ever.

“Yeah, Li,” he says, eyes falling back on Liam, the protective stare in his eyes, like he’s trying to get information on the location of someone who’s messed with Niall, ready to kill them. “I’m good. I’m really, really good.”

Liam smiles apparently satisfied, and then Harry is coming in between them, pushing Liam away playfully and saying, “I need a hug, Niall.”

And when the door shuts behind Liam and Harry, masking them in silence, Niall and Zayn are alone in their new house.

They must be thinking the same thing, always on the same wavelength, ever since the beginning, ever since the balcony, because they’re both smiling at each other and holding out their hands.

It’s only seven at night and their bed is only a mattress until they can figure out how to get Niall’s old bedframe there, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

When Niall falls down onto the mattress, he pulls Zayn with him, and curls around him, sliding his hands around Zayn’s waist and pressing his lips to the back of his neck and kissing his skin.

“We’ve got a fucking house, Z,” Niall says, he’s buzzing, but he feels exhausted, full, and loved. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t know what I was thinking, like.” Zayn teases, but he’s reaching behind himself to pull Niall closer to him by the bottom of his spine.

\--

On their first morning together, by some miracle, Zayn is awake first.

It makes Niall wake up feeling disoriented, panicking that maybe all of this was a dream, everything from meeting Zayn, to kissing him for the first time, the second, and all the times after that, he thinks he may have imagined it until he finds Zayn in his studio, windows open, plastic on the floor, and different colored cans of spray paint and paint cans littered all around him like a rainbow.

And there Zayn is in the middle – dark red beanie on his head, the purple of his hair hidden. He looks up when Niall comes in, and Niall can tell he’s grinning, even with the mask over his face, and he relaxes.

The dreamlike sensation is still there when Zayn slips a mask over Niall's head, places a kiss on the tip of his nose and says, "Paint the walls with me, Ni."

The paint mostly ends up on the length of their bodies rather than the height of the walls.

Zayn traces red up Niall's exposed arm, the trail running cold at the delicate crease of his elbow, and Niall presses blue fingerprints into the skin on Zayn's neck, leaves blue smudges on the dip of Zayn's hip.

And when Zayn spreads him on the ground, pressing kisses into his pale and freckled skin, his lips trailing over his collarbone, Niall sinks his hand straight into green.

**Author's Note:**

> *screams for twenty years straight*
> 
> ahh!! come chat about it on [tumblr](http://nahdeer.tumblr.com) if you want! and there's an attempt at a visual in my [fic](http://nahdeer.tumblr.com/tagged/fic) tag! : )


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